


More Than Just Surviving

by tristan_jace



Category: Grey's Anatomy, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Artist Harry Potter, Bisexual Harry Potter, Bisexual Mark Sloan, Callie and Harry are Good Friends, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net by griffindorks, Exclusive Triad, F/F, F/M, Harry is Not Over-Powered, Intelligent Harry Potter, M/M, Multiple Points of View, Not Epilogue Compliant, Polyamory Negotiations, Sirius Black Adopted Harry Potter, Trauma Surgeon Harry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:21:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 45,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22642516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tristan_jace/pseuds/tristan_jace
Summary: Fyodor Dostoyevsky once said, “The mystery of human existence lies not in just staying alive, but in finding something to live for.” A life without purpose is a painfully hollow existence. Some are unlucky enough to never find theirs. I thank Death every day that I escaped that fate. I’d been a hollow shell of myself after the war. It took a while, but I found my direction, and the long and eventful journey of self-discovery has brought me to my latest destination. This rainy, cloudy, and downright depressing city of Seattle. Absolutely perfect in my books, just like back home. I miss it, and them, my friends and chosen family, but they understood why I had to step out into the world. I had served their purpose, and it had been time to strive for my own, and be more than just the Boy-Who-Lived.
Relationships: Addison Montgomery/Harry Potter/Mark Sloan, Meredith Grey/Derek Shepherd, Preston Burke/Cristina Yang
Comments: 101
Kudos: 203





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Another, yet final, rewrite. Hope y'all enjoy, my newfound partner, griffindorks, and I have pretty much changed most of it, but for the better. 
> 
> Episodes: A Hard Day's Night (S01E01)

**Harry’s POV**

Harry slid out of bed just as his alarm went off, and with a groan, reached out a hand to slap the snooze button. He carefully stepped around the clutter of new employee paperwork and policy manuals currently scattered around his bedroom floor and made his way towards the hallway bathroom. Completing his other morning ablutions, he lingered in the shower for as long as possible, hoping to give Mer enough time to kick out her latest ‘tequila mistake’ from last night. Knowing and unfortunately hearing what your _little sister_ had been up to was one thing, but he felt no inclination to be faced with the evidence. _A bloke had his limits._

“This is…” A deep voice trails off, Mer’s following right after. 

“Humiliating on so many levels. You have to go.” 

“Why don’t you just come back down here and we’ll pick up where we left off?” Harry chuckled at the man’s attempt to lure Mer back to ‘bed’ as he made his way back to his bedroom. He needed to get dressed for the day and reminded himself to grab an extra set of clothes. As his experience of working at hospitals had taught him, it was better to be prepared. 

**Meredith’s POV**

“No, seriously, you have to go. I’m late, which is something you don’t want to be on your first day of work, so...” Mer states, throwing the hot guy his clothes as she looked around for her own. 

“So, ah, you actually live here?” Hottie asked, glancing around the dusty room with genuine interest. 

“Nope.” Mer replied, popping the ‘p’ and brushing a strand of hair from her eyes. “Yes, kind of.” 

“Oh, it’s nice. Little dusty, odd, but it’s nice. So, how do you kind of live here?” _God_ , _why is he so disgustingly good to look at?_

“I moved two weeks ago from Boston. It was my mother’s house. We’re selling it.” Mer rambled, the blanket wrapped tightly around her as he buckled his belt.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?” 

“You said _was_.” He pointed out, still struggling with his pants. 

“Oh! My mother’s not dead. She’s… you know what? We don’t have to do the thing.” She needed to get him out of the house _ASAP_ . She could hear Harry moving upstairs, and she really didn’t need her _older brother_ witnessing her walk of shame.

“We can do anything you want.” _‘Gotta give him that, he’s persistent._

“No, the _thing_. Exchange the details, pretend we care… Look, I’m gonna go upstairs and take a shower, and when I get back, you won’t be here, so um, goodbye, uh...” Mer trails off awkwardly, trying to wrack her hungover brain for the guy’s name. 

“Derek.” He supplied with disappointed amusement, reaching over to shake her hand. 

“Derek. Right. Meredith.” _She needed out of here,_ **_now_ ** _._

With a final, “Goodbye, Derek,” she rushed up the stairs heading for the bathroom, only to come face-to-face with Harry coming out of his room. He was already dressed in dark blue jeans and an untucked black button-up, with his messenger bag over his shoulder. God officially hated her. Could this day possibly get any more embarrassing?

“Another ‘tequila night’?” She glanced up to his iridescent emerald eyes and cringed sheepishly as she felt a wave of Harry’s magic turning her blanket into a bathrobe. 

The wizard leaned against the door jamb, arms crossed, eyebrow lifted, and a smirk on his handsome face.

Mer adjusted the robe and pushed aside her embarrassment. “Thanks, but _please_ don’t start. I really don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Fine, fine. Have it your way,” he said, raising both hands in placation, the gesture entirely ruined by his widening smirk, and straightened up into his full 6’1” frame. “You better hurry anyway,” he looked down at his watch, “you’ve got fifteen minutes if you don’t want to be late.” He started to leave but paused, asking, “Do you want to leave together?”

Taking a brief second to consent, she hurried to the bathroom.

**Harry’s POV**

Harry started to pull some cereal from one of the kitchen cabinets but quickly chucked it in the bin at noticing the expiration date was five years ago. _Well shite! Guess I’ll have to stop by the grocer’s on the way back._ _Merlin knows Mer lives on caffeinated sludge and air._

He quickly grabbed two eggs, cracking them on the pan, while throwing two slices of bread into the toaster. He placed the cooked eggs on each toast and topped it with a scoop of salsa he’d found in the fridge. Grabbing Mer’s car keys, he summoned his black dragonhide jacket, courtesy of Charlie, from the living room. He had just enough time to shrug it on and grab their breakfast before Mer came zooming down the stairs making straight for the front door. Handing her the toast, he locked up behind them and headed to the car. 

Instead of getting in, Harry just stood and stared in distaste. “Why do you insist on continuing to drive this death trap?” 

“Oh, my God! Stop being such a guy, and how many times do I have to tell you, I am _not_ getting rid of it. It’s been with me since high school,” Mer finished off lamely.

Blowing out a frustrated breath at her continued stubbornness on this long-standing argument, he gave her a narrow-eyed, ‘McGonagall glare’, and got in the car. He silently cried on the inside, missing his beautiful Audi RS7. That car was his one indulgence, but hey, he had to fulfill his need for speed somehow. Unfortunately, it wouldn’t be delivered from Minnesota, along with the rest of his things, until later this week.

The drive to the hospital was peaceful. Harry ate his toast while Mer looked over her own orientation papers. Pulling into a parking spot, he caught Mer by her elbow before she could sprint away. “We forgot to discuss how you want to handle ‘us’.”

“What do you mean? Why can’t we just say we’re like siblings?” He could already tell from her pursed lips that his question had pinched at her deep-seated insecurity and abandonment issues.

Cursing internally, he made to nip her thoughts at the bud. “Mer, we both know how hard you’ve worked to get where you are, and I’m proud of you. Having said that, the last thing I want to do is cheapen your honestly earned accomplishments because of rumors of nepotism.”

“So… we should just pretend to be strangers?”

He couldn’t help but chuckle at her oh so disappointed look. “I don’t think we have to be that extreme.” After he gave it some thought, he added “Doing that might actually backfire if or when the truth comes out. Richard... I mean Dr. Webber, has always known of our connection. I think the best option might be to remain familiar, but professional, and if the subject comes up, just tell them the truth.”

Mer had been nodding through his little speech, indicating her understanding. “So just stick with ‘We’ve known each other since you first started as an intern with my mother’?”

“Pretty much. It would be no different than you working under Dr. Webber, since it’s well known that he worked with your mother. With that settled, off you go ‘young padawan’,” he said impishly.

“You are _such_ a nerd. Oh, and please don’t embarrass me at work.” Having said her piece, she ran towards the hospital.

Harry stared after her with just a smidgen of horror. _M_ **_e?_ ** _Embarrassing? Well, I never!_ He also headed in Mer’s direction, ready to start another chapter in his, so far, eventful life. 

Making his way in, Harry briefly glanced around the bustling lobby with interest, and made his way towards the elevators to see the Chief of Surgery for his marching orders.

Once he on the right floor, he noticed the unlit windows of Richard’s office, and headed towards the reception desk, racking his brain for the assistant’s name. At the time of his interview, two months ago, he’d been given a tour of the hospital and briefly introduced to the hospital’s big wigs and some of the staff, especially those in the unit he would be overseeing. 

The receptionist looked up at his approach and greeted him with a bright smile, appearing to recognize him from their previous meeting. “Hi, Dr. Potter-Black, Dr. Webber asked me to let you know he’s heading over right now.”

Smiling in return, he began to reply but turned around at hearing Richard Webber’s greeting from the elevators.

**Richard’s POV**

Richard Webber would readily admit he had led a prolific career. Upon graduating from Northwestern University, he’d interned right here in this very hospital, before becoming a resident and an attending at one of the best hospitals in Manhattan. However, he was brought back full circle when Seattle Grace Hospital asked him to come back as their senior-attending general surgeon. The thing he was most proud of though was becoming the Chief of Surgery at the hospital where it had all started. 

He had worked relentlessly to form one of the greatest surgical programs in the country, but as his wife, Adele, often liked to say, ‘he was a driven workaholic’. It had been his dream, ever since he made Chief, to see SGH become the _top_ surgical program in the country. For this to happen, his surgery department needed innovative surgeons unafraid to step out of their comfort zones, and residents with great potential.

After years of trying, he finally managed to entice two of the greatest surgeons of their fields to switch to SGH. Both being his students was beside the point. Just a few minutes ago, after welcoming the newest set of surgical interns, he had watched Derek Shepherd, his new Head of Neurosurgery, get settled into his department. So, it shouldn’t come as a surprise that his face supported a beaming and satisfied smile as he took the elevator up to greet his second, and possibly, the greatest addition to the program to date.

Richard saw said young man standing at the reception desk, and before the elevator doors had the chance to fully open, he called out, “Harry, welcome to Seattle!” Richard pulled his unofficial, yet long-time protégé into a hug, noticing the look of surprise on his receptionist’s face. “Why don’t we head into my office, before I let you loose on the unsuspecting?”

“No need to make me sound so ghastly, Richard!” The older man couldn’t stop a scoff from escaping at Harry’s mock offense. He turned to guide his new surgeon to his office but paused as Harry smiled towards the receptionist, “Thanks for your help, Megan. I’ll be seeing you around, I’m sure.” 

The Chief forced himself not to roll his eyes at the woman practically falling apart at the Englishman’s accent. It wasn’t the first time he had seen his protégé have that effect on women, which, to his exasperation, included his wife. _Damn, I’m going to be in the dog house for forgetting to tell the woman Harry was moving here._

Shuffling that thought for later, he made a note to keep an eye on the man and Shepherd too, for that matter. They were both going to cause havoc being their charming selves, he just knew it. At least Shepherd was aware of the effect he had on people, but Harry was oblivious, or perhaps really practiced at appearing so. Richard had his suspicions. 

Clearing his throat to dissolve any awkwardness, he directed Harry towards his office. Offering the younger man a seat, he inquired how he was settling in.

“It’s nice here, I like it. Reminds me of back home,” Harry replied, brushing his hair from his eyes and getting comfortable in his seat. “Plus, Mer is here, so it’s worlds better than being in Minnesota.”

Richard nodded in understanding, noticing the young man’s softening emerald eyes as he spoke about the girl he had unofficially adopted as his sister. Through their communications over the years, Richard had learned just how deeply Harry had come to care for the lonely girl, downtrodden by the neglect shown towards her by an ambitious mother. 

As often happened, the older man found himself becoming overwhelmed with his level of respect for his protégé. He had come such a long way from the boy Richard had first met during Harry’s final year at Harvard Med School. While working in Manhattan, Richard had been asked to do a brief teaching stint for a semester and had been amazed by his then student’s revolutionary thinking and passion for the discipline. He had gotten a sense of Harry’s brilliance and generous heart at the time and thus had begun his tenure as a remote mentor for the younger man. 

Learning of the prospective surgeon’s internship under Ellis Grey had wholly blindsided him. Still, Richard had been happy in the knowledge that with the fire he’d seen in the young man’s eyes, he would genuinely thrive under the strict woman. 

Shaking away old memories, he asked his subordinate, “You realize that as soon as you’re settled, Adele will expect you over for dinner?”

Harry must have read _something_ on his face because, with a mocking tilt of his head and a contemplative glare, he asked, “You forgot to tell her, didn’t you?”

“Uhem, maybe?” Having been caught, Richard glanced away from the subtle look of sadistic glee starting to build in the other man’s eyes. 

“Hmm... someone is definitely getting the couch,” continued Harry with an unrepentant smile stretching across his face.

Placing his hands on his knees and pushing to stand, Richard turned a glare towards Harry and countered, “You know, for someone speaking with their boss on their first day of work, you sure are mouthy.” 

The boy had the nerve to just laugh unashamedly, as he too stood to follow Richard’s silent indication to follow him out of the office. 

The Chief started to lead his younger colleague towards the elevator, taking a second to lock his office. “I have this feeling that you’ll be giving me daily headaches. I wonder why?” pondered Richard. 

**Harry’s POV**

Leaning back against the elevator wall and adjusting his messenger bag, Harry replied, “Keeping the blood flowing, with a little challenge, never hurt anyone, Richard.” 

“Don’t ever change, Harry,” his mentor replied fondly, after a brief pause to consider the comment.

Harry was well aware of his mentor’s workaholic tendencies. Something Adele liked to frustratingly rant about. He knew she had every reason to, which is why Harry always made an effort to pull Richard out into the real world. Everyone knew him as Ellis Grey’s disciple, and while she had taught him the skills of a top-grade surgeon, it had been the man standing next to him that taught him about the softer side of medicine. Having Richard to correspond with had kept Harry from growing too jaded under the tender mercies of Ellis.

Speaking of not becoming jaded, he asked Richard, “How long do you think the Board of Directors will hold up their end of the deal before trying to renege?” During his meeting with the Board after his interview, Harry had ethically disclosed his position as one of the leading members of the Potter ‘Foundation for the Advancement of Medical Education and Research’ (FAMER), and owner of Pev-Rell Innovations. However, he’d had them sign a non-disclosure agreement about the revelation and made it clear that the hospital should not expect preferential treatment just because he was on staff. Secondly, he had placed a condition on SGH retaining his services, one that was near and dear to his heart. His tenure with SGH would be dependent on the yearly surgical charity budget being raised by an additional $2 million.

“Son, you’re the youngest Harper Avery Award Winner since Ellis. I think they would agree to bring you the moon to keep you here.”

“I’m not saying I’m not pleased they agreed, but I really wish my status as an Award holder, wasn’t a factor for them to agree to something they should be doing anyway. Their original charity allocation didn’t even come close to matching up with their competitors”. 

“That’s how the world works, Harry,” the older man sighed.

They got out at the second level of the surgical wing, and Richard handed him the keys to his new office. He quickly glanced around, taking in the charcoal taupe walls, beige and blue contemporary furniture, with a wooden standing desk, and mounted bookshelves, both in a light wood color. “It’s nice. Clean, minimal, and quiet. I like it.” 

“Glad to hear it. Now, let me just announce you to your staff one last time, and you can start getting familiar with the department’s operations.”

“Sounds good.” Harry put away his bag and turned to Richard, who was waiting by the door, holding out a white coat. Hanging up his leather jacket and pulling on the coat, Harry looked at his reflection in the window to see the SGH logo on the right side of his chest. On the left was his title and his hand lifted to brush his fingers over the letters, 

Harrison Potter-Black, MD. PhD. FACS. FRCS.

HEAD of EMERGENCY MEDICINE & TRAUMA SURGERY

There he stood. Once a lonely, malnourished boy who lived in a cupboard under the stairs, now the head of two specialty units. Sometimes, he still couldn’t believe how far he had come.

“Thank you, sir.”

“You’re welcome, son.” Placing a hand on the Englishman’s shoulder, Richard added, “You deserve it, and I know you’ll go on to do great things. The last time, I promise. Are you sure you don’t want the post?” he asked, referring to the original job offer.

“Richard, there are still so many things I could do on the field, and I’m not ready to be bound to a desk yet. I’ll help as much as I can though, to help lighten the load if needed. You’ve done so much for me over the years, the least I can do is return the favor.”

“Alright, I might just take you up on it.” He said with a smile. “Now come on, I’ll walk you to your new home away from home.” 

“Lead the way, Chief.” 

“Hmm, you only say that because you don’t remember how to get there yet.” Harry placed his hand over his heart in mock offense. 

“I’ll have you know, I am 80% sure on how to find the ER,” The wizard stated confidently, and then faltered, “Well, maybe 75.” Richard smiled good-naturedly, and Harry returned it with ease as the lift descends to the ground floor.

Arriving at the ER, unanimously referred to as ‘The Pit’, and the home of the Trauma Unit, Harry and Richard found the nurses and other floor techs in the middle of their ‘shift huddle’. Others bustled about helping the steady stream of patients, and the wizard found himself smiling at once again being in familiar territory. Richard made to interrupt the meeting, but Harry indicated for him to stop with a slight raise of his hand. He paid attention as the team discussed their agenda for the day, addressing which patients needed to be monitored, who was scheduled for surgery or discharge, who would handle intake, and whether a patient was ready to transfer from a central line to a regular IV. Seeing the meeting coming to a close, Richard made their presence known.

“If I could have everyone gather round?” announced the Chief, and then waited for the others on staff to join the huddle. “Dr. Harrison Potter-Black here will be starting as the new Head of Emergency Medicine and Trauma Surgery today. I hope everyone can help him settle in.”

“That was quite the comprehensive and concise huddle, I’m impressed,” complimented Harry and saw acknowledging smiles returned back at him. “It’s a pleasure to see you all again. I remember... most of the faces here from our introduction last month, but please, continue to bear with me while I learn everyone’s names. I intend to take most of today to get familiar with the department. Still, I’ll be available if anything needing my attention comes up, so feel free to let me know,” Harry stated in an amiable yet commanding manner.

Having said his piece, Harry took the time to happily renew acquaintances with his new staff. He informed them that over the coming weeks, he would be sitting down with everyone individually to get to know them better and get familiar with their roles. Harry wanted to gain a clear understanding of the different personalities and talents on his team and access if or where improvements were needed.

“I almost forgot to mention, we have twenty new interns starting today, so I would proceed with... caution,” Richard voiced as Harry dismissed the last of his team to return to their posts.

“Funny, but this isn’t my first rodeo, Chief, but to allay your fears, I’ll make sure they don’t run me off on my first day,” he joked with a small shrug.

With a straight face, Richard replied, “I meant, don’t kill them.”

The new department Head’s eyes filled with mirth, and his head tilted into consideration. “I’ll think about it, but I make no promises. Just in case though, they all have health coverage, right?”

The older surgeon shook his head at Harry’s jest and paused at seeing something towards the open doors of the ambulance bay. With a tilt of his head, he indicated for Harry to follow. “Come, there’s someone I think you’ll enjoy meeting.”

**Miranda’s POV**

Miranda Bailey was having a stressful day and the unexpected approach of the Chief of Surgery had the potential for making it worse. That was, until her attention was diverted to the man following alongside him. 

_Well, I’ll be damned_. 

Decked out in a translucent canary yellow gown, Miranda was prepared for the incoming ambulance, but not to meet one of the most accomplished surgeons and researchers in the country. Reading about him and seeing his pictures in scientific journals is one thing, but beholding him in real life, was quite a statuesque sight. 

He had a swimmer’s physique just north of six feet, and walked with a well-practiced and self-assured stride, reminding Miranda of a few soldiers she had come across in her line of work. 

Nervously waiting as the pair neared, Miranda had to admit, at least to herself, the man was attractive. He had a chiseled square jaw with a prominent chin, all set within a heart-shaped frame. It was accentuated by slightly wavy, brunette hair, styled in a medium asymmetrical cut which fell over his left brow. The barest hint of stubble spanned across the lower half of his face, giving it a roguish quality. His roman nose and thin lips spoke of aristocratic bearing, while the broad unlined forehead gave the deception of unconcerned youth, but the existence of the extremely fine, silvery, lightning bolt shaped scar reaching down from his hair line towards his right brow, alluded to an eventful past.

 _Great,_ thought Miranda, a _nother pretty face. I hope he’s not as bad as Derek Shepherd._ Dr. Webber had introduced her to the new Head of Neurosurgery earlier. While she couldn’t fault him for his talent as a first-class surgeon, the man was too good looking, and too charming, and too flirty, and he smiled too much. She didn’t know how, didn’t know when, but she did know Shepherd would become a pain in her ass one day.

Miranda was dislodged from her thoughts when Dr. Webber spoke. “Harry, this is Dr. Miranda Bailey. She’s one of our third-year residents in General Surgery, and Dr. Bailey, meet Dr. Harrison Potter-Black, our new Head of Emergency Medicine and Trauma Surgery.”

Taking a step closer towards her, and with an upturn of his lips, the new Head offered his hand in greeting. “I’m extremely pleased to finally meet you, Dr. Bailey. I’ve heard great things.”

 _Hold up, what?_

Briefly taken aback by his British accent and smooth baritone, and still trying to get over meeting such an impressive personality, she dazedly shook his hand. A hand that was, for a surgeon, surprisingly callused and dispersed with several nicks. Her confusion from his words must have shown on her face because a laugh broke across Dr. Potter-Black’s face.

 _Oh, for the love o’ God! He has dimples? Tall, dark, British, handsome, dimples, British._ Her eyes narrowed. _Yup, definite trouble. Maybe worse than Shepherd._

“Sorry. It’s just I’ve known Dr. Webber since I was in medical school, and for the past three years, I’ve been hearing,” he looked teasingly towards said man, “raving reviews about a Miranda Bailey. So yes, it’s a pleasure to finally put a face to the name.” 

Miranda gazed up to access the sincerity in his eyes, and was taken aback at the overwhelming impressions contained within his almond-shaped, crystalline emerald eyes. While they were some of the most beautiful she had ever seen, deep-set with hooded lids, and framed by full brows, that wasn’t what had brought her to a pause. It was that, while his gaze did give evidence of his current mirth and happiness, lending credence to his words, they also told of a past fraught with disappointments, pain, and so much loss. They looked as if they had seen too much at too young an age. 

Perhaps, it was because of his experience that his gaze felt keen and observant, seeming to take in everything and everyone around him at once. It made Miranda think back to her initial impression of him being a soldier. Thankfully, they still shone with an abundance of hope, warmth, and confidence. 

All in all, Miranda got the impression that while he’d had a hard life, he still had the will to thrive, and that shattered her previous perception. 

_No, not like Shepherd._

Though what surprised Miranda, was that despite his successful reputation, and the look of his experienced eyes, he looked much...

“Uh, Miranda?” the Chief called.

 **_Miranda Bailey_ ** _! What is wrong with you,_ **_girl_ ** _? You are the,_ **_Nazi_ ** _. You put the fear of God, in interns and attendings alike. You kick ass and take names. Get your head back in the game._

“Sorry, I… thank you, that means a lot.” She glanced at Dr. Webber to include him in her gratitude. She liked to act strictly professional and unfazed, but it felt good to hear that her superior thought highly enough of her. 

“I was just surprised. Actually, I should be the one saying it to you. It really is an honor to have you here. I mean, I’ve read all your research papers about the ‘Potter-Black Protocols’, and it’s truly amazing how much they’ve revolutionized emergency and trauma response methods.” 

Seeing Dr. Webber becoming more amused, and realizing that she was rambling, she cleared her throat to recenter herself. At least, Dr. Potter-Black had enough manners to not laugh at her, unlike _some_ people, she thought, trying not to glare at the Chief. 

“I just wasn’t expecting you to look so young in person. Especially with everything you’ve accomplished already.” It felt quite humbling to be in his presence. Here she was, a twenty-nine year-old, fourth-year resident, and here was someone who was only five years older than her and had already led an illustrious career. She was also pleasantly surprised that he didn’t seem to suffer from the usual ego that came with being a hot-shot surgeon. 

Their impromptu gathering was suddenly interrupted by nearing sirens, and then the ambulance pulled into the bay.

_Well, here we go._

**Cristina’s POV**

Cristina Yang was frustrated. She’d had so many plans and expectations for her first day of surgical internship. She graduated first in her class at Stanford, earned a dual doctoral degree in medicine and philosophy, was smart, and ambitious. She had expected to at least see the inside of an OR today. Instead, she’d been assigned labs like some _nurse_. At least she’d gotten to hear all about the fantastic surgery pulled off by the new trauma attending. 

Grabbing some crappy food from the cafeteria, she made a beeline towards where the other interns were sitting. She only recognized the blonde model, Izzie Stevens, and the socially awkward and possibly in-the-closet, George O’Malley. The others… _whatever_.

The blonde looked sick to her stomach and wouldn’t even look at her food. Cristina flipped idly through her book in an attempt to ignore the overly chatty interns.

“You should eat something.” George encouraged quietly as Izzie looked away from his sandwich with a grimace. 

“You try eating after performing seventeen rectal exams. The Nazi hates me.” Her disgusted mutter, brought a small smirk to Cristina’s lips. _Well, there is always something worse than labs._

George waved his spoon wildly with a dejected frown. “The Nazi’s a resident. I have _attendings_ hating me.” Cristina shut her book and looked up to address the rest of the table. 

“You know Meredith is inbred?” She crossed her arms atop the table and studied each of her fellow interns, but especially George O’Malley, the softest of them all. _He reminds me of a puppy. So eager to please._

“Like it’s uncommon around here to be a doctor’s -” 

“No, I mean, royally inbred. Her mother is _Ellis Grey_.” Cristina interrupted him, her voice having dropped to just above a whisper. 

“Shut up, _the_ Ellis Grey?” She nodded at Izzie’s inquiry while tapping her highlighter against the table.

“Wait, who’s Ellis Grey?” asked George around a mouth full of food.

Cristina and Izzie shared a look before they laughed at the boy’s ignorance. _WOW! He did_ **_not_ ** _just ask that._

“The Grey Method?” Cristina clarified incredulously. “Where’d you go to med school, Mexico?” The young woman couldn’t grasp how the male intern made it through med school, let alone into Seattle Grace’s surgical program if he didn’t know something as simple as this.

Izzie chimed in. “She was one of the first big chick surgeons, she practically invented the abdominal-”

“She’s a living legend. She won the Harper Avery. _Twice_ ” Cristina interrupted once more.

“So I didn’t know _one_ thing,” George said defensively.

“Talk about parental pressure,” Izzie muttered sympathetically, completely disregarding the man.

“I would _kill_ to have Ellis Grey as a mother. I would kill to _be_ Ellis Grey,” she said longingly, knowing that she could be just as great, if only they would give her a _damn_ chance. “All I need is _one_ good case.”

Right as Cristina finished her comment, Meredith Grey walked over and sat down heavily, slamming her tray down on the table. “Katie Bryce is a pain in the ass. If I hadn’t taken the Hippocratic oath, I’d Kevorkian her with my bare hands,” complained the slight woman abruptly. Everyone stared at her in shocked silence.

“What?” she snapped, noticing everyone’s stares.

“Speaking of Katie Bryce.” Cristina waited until she had the other interns’ attention before continuing her story. “I went to look for Bailey to update her about the patient’s lab results...” _and to hint about scrubbing in on the surgery that according to rumor, a new intern gets chosen for, but they don’t need to know that._ “...and saw her assisting in an emergency surgery on a cop, brought in with a GSW. From the looks of it, it looked pretty intense.

“The gossip at the nurse’s station is that the bullet fragmented on impact and shredded his bile duct and parts of his small intestine. The new trauma attending had to take over the surgery. There was just too much damage, and it was looking pretty hopeless.” The interns were giving Cristina’s retelling their undivided attention, but Meredith looked a little amused for some reason.

“That must be a top-notch surgeon, though, because he ended up saving the patient by resecting all the damaged sections and rerouting them to get the patient stable. Now they’re waiting on the tissue he ordered so he can go back in and repair the damaged tubes with grafts.” Cristina finished off feeling both smug and impressed. 

“He’s not a new trauma attending.” Everyone looked towards Meredith at her utterance, awaiting more information with bated breaths. 

“He’s the new Head of both Emergency Medicine and Trauma Surgery,” she paused as their attentive gazes turned to shock, before adding, “...his name is Dr. Harrison Potter-Black.”

Cristina felt her jaw slacken, and a slight shiver travel down her spine in response to her surprise. For a few seconds, all the interns remained silent, processing this information.

“Harrison Potter-Black is here? In this hospital?” 

Meredith nodded in response to Cristina’s questions.

“ _The_ Dr. Potter-Black? Of the internationally acknowledged Emergency Medicine Response Protocols?” Cristina added, only to receive another confirming nod from the other intern.

“He’s a Harper Avery Award winner, you know,” added George, causing everyone to finally come out of their dazed minds.

Before Cristina or one of the others could express their excitement at the possibility of learning under an award-winning surgeon, they were interrupted by Dr. Burke, the Head of Cardiothoracic Surgery, and their on-call attending for the day. 

“Good afternoon, interns,” said the attending. “It’s posted, but I thought I’d share the good news personally. As you know, the honor of performing the first surgery is reserved for the intern that shows the most promise.”

Now, this really got their attention. “As I’m running the OR today, I get to make that choice.” Pausing briefly to clap George on the back, he exclaimed, “George O’Malley! You’ll scrub in for an appendectomy this afternoon. Congratulations.”

“Me?” responded the awkward boy intern in apparent bewilderment. 

“Enjoy,” having said his piece, Dr. Burke strode away. 

No one spoke, and into this dead silence, O’Malley whimpered, “Did he say me?”

**Meredith’s POV**

Mer approached Bailey, having spotted her at the door that lead to the second-floor lobby. 

However, upon reaching her, Mer’s throat closed up. Would Dr. Bailey think her lacking at not being able to handle the patient’s family? What if this made her believe that Mer was incompetent? 

_She is called the Nazi, after all._

“Katie’s parents have questions. Do you talk to them, or do I ask Burke?” Mer said, deciding to take the leap. 

Harry had once mentioned that Interns, being fresh out of the classroom, shouldn’t be making any decisions about a patient’s treatment or what to tell their family, without first discussing it with their resident or attending. She hoped Harry’s advice came through for her once again. 

“No, Burke's off the case. Katie belongs to the new attending now, Dr. Shepherd,” answered Bailey, and Mer couldn’t help but feel relieved. 

_It came through. Thank you,_ **_big brother_ ** _._

“He’s over there,” added the resident and pointed towards the lobby.

Nodding her head at Bailey in thanks, Mer took a few steps in the indicated direction, but what she saw made her stop dead in her tracks. 

_Oh God, this can not be happening._

For there, standing a few steps in front of her, wearing a white coat and speaking with a few other doctors, was Derek. Derek, of the ‘tequila mistake’. Derek, from this morning. 

Trying not to get spotted, she started to turn back the way she’d come, but it was too late. He had absently glanced her way, and then did a double-take, having recognized her.

She turned and left down the hallway, leaving him staring. Unfortunately, he followed and pulled her into the stairwell, and took a quick glance to make sure they were alone.

“Hey-” “Dr. Shepherd-,” they started at the same time. Him with a smile and her with incredulity. 

“Dr. Shepherd? This morning it was Derek. Now it's Dr. Shepherd?” he asked with a hint of something decidedly _not_ professional.

“Dr. Shepherd,” she countered strictly, “we should pretend it never happened.”

“What never happened? You sleeping with me last night or you throwing me out this morning? Because both are fond memories I’d like to hold onto,” Derek questioned with a gradually growing teasing smirk on his face.

Mer could feel her resolve starting to crumble under his magnetic charm, but she had to hold firm. “No. There will be no memories. I’m not the girl in the bar anymore, and you’re not the guy. This can’t exist. You get that, right?” Mer hoped to appeal to his rational side.

“You took advantage of me, and now you want to forget about it.” That was definitely flirtation in his voice and naked interest in his eyes, the slender intern decided.

“I did not take -,” Mer started to say as she finally took note of his teasing accusation. However, he chimed in before she could finish.

“I was drunk, vulnerable, and good-looking, and _you_ took advantage,” his flippant behavior and ‘come hither’ glances were starting to thaw out her determination.

“Okay, I was the one who was drunk, and you are _not_ that good-looking,” Mer countered playfully with a burgeoning smile on her face. 

“Well, maybe not today. Last night, last night I was _very_ good-looking. I had my red shirt on, my good-looking shirt, you took advantage,” the attending said consideringly as he circled around to her other side.

“I did not take -”

“You want to take advantage again? Say Friday night?” Derek proposed, leaning closer to her until their faces were barely half a foot apart. The invitation bright in his heavy eyes.

“No. You're an attending. And I’m your intern,” she continued adamantly, not sure anymore if she was trying to convince him or herself.

Noticing his eyes lowering to her lips and traveling down, she snapped, “Stop _looking_ at me like that.” 

Flicking his eyes back up, he asked defensively, “Like what?”

“Like you've seen me naked.”

Derek smirked. 

“Dr. Shepherd! _This_ is inappropriate. Has that ever occurred to you?”

Hoping she made her point, Mer walked back out into the hallway.

**George’s POV**

George stood in the scrub room, getting ready for his first surgery. He’d been picked as the first intern out of their group to take part in a surgery. He racked his brain, trying to figure out why. Why him? He wasn’t a natural talent like Meredith, whose mother was _the_ Ellis Grey, he wasn’t as smart as Cristina, who had graduated first in her class, he didn’t stand out like Izzie, who was sweet and gregarious. He was just George; socially awkward, still living at home with his family, passably good looking, and not that smart, George. He’d barely made it into Seattle Grace’s Surgical Program by the skin of his teeth. 

Which led back to the question, why him? He had his suspicions, it was because he’d annoyed Dr. Burke. 

He wasn’t ready for this, but he didn’t really have a choice, did he? He could feel his heartbeat in his throat, highlighting his nervousness. It wrapped around him like a vice and squeezed until he couldn’t breathe, but he wouldn’t allow it this time.

_You can do this, George. You might not be the smartest intern, but you graduated from medical school. You managed to make it into one of the best surgical programs in the country. You can do this._

With a final fortifying nod, he stepped in the OR, the scrub nurse moved forward to put his gloves on. 

He knew his fellow interns were watching from the viewing gallery and that Dr. Burke would be there to assist, but somehow the thought of all those eyes focused entirely on him made his skin crawl. _I really wish I was anywhere else but here._

As he looked around the room and saw the operating table; however, a realization hit him full force. This moment was everything he’d strived for. He could do this. _I may not be like the others, but I made it just the same._

“Ready, O’Malley?” George turned to Dr. Burke and nodded hesitantly. 

_It’s now or never._

“Let’s see what you can do.” Burke challenged, and George was pretty sure he was smirking behind his mask.

“Open, identify, ligate, irrigate, close,” the intern muttered to himself, “Open, identify, ligate, irrigate, close.” 

Moving over to the patient’s side, and taking a deep breath, George glanced up to the viewing gallery where the other interns sat watching and met Meredith’s eyes. She nodded once, an almost imperceptible dip of her chin, and George looked back to the patient. 

_Let’s do this._

“Scalpel.” 

“Scalpel.” The nurse repeated and placed it into George’s waiting hand. The interns whooped from the gallery until Burke silenced them with a sharp motion. George pressed the blade against the patient’s abdomen, starting an incision. 

“More pressure. Human flesh is a tough shell, dig in,” advised Burke, his voice low and quiet in George’s ear. Following Burke’s advice, he asked for the pick-ups and then the clamp, each one handed to him by Bokhee, the surgical nurse. 

“Metzenbaum. I'm there.” George murmured, more to himself than anyone else. _I’ve reached the peritoneum, now to remove the appendix..._

“Scalpel. Appendix is out.” The intern removed the vestigial organ and tossed it into the tray to the cheers of the others. 

“Not bad!” Burke seems surprised, but George tried not to let it eat at him too much. _I know I’m not as good as the others, but I did this. Not them._

“Thank you,” he says quietly as he searched for the purse-strings.

Burke takes a step closer to George and studies the field of view. “Now, all you have to do is invert the stump into the cecum and simultaneously pull up on the purse-strings but be careful not to-” George faltered as he ripped them, “-break them.” 

“He ripped the cecum. Got a bleeder,” the attending announced to the room in light of the complication.

“You’re filling with stool, what do you do now?” The surgeon questioned George.

“Uh...uh…,” George faltered as his mind blanked, leaving him helpless.

“Think! You start the suction, and you start digging for those purse-strings before she bleeds to death. Bokhee, give him a clamp,” Burke stated, his tone exasperated as if he would rather be anywhere else. 

“BP’s dropping,” called out one of the nurses, ratcheting George’s nerves up another level. The intern tried to follow the attending’s directive, but his motor faculties refused to follow along. 

“Today, O'Malley,” Burke pressured, “Pull your balls out of your back pocket, let’s go. What are you waiting for…, suction,” the senior surgeon demanded, having given up on the unresponsive intern. 

The vital station started to beep rapidly, pushing the monitoring nurse to yell, “Getting too low folks... Dr.Burke…”

Finally, having had enough of waiting, he forced George out of the way with a shove to the ribs. “Get out of the way. Pansy-ass idiot. Get him out of here. Suction. Clamp.”

George just stood there to the side, his humiliation complete. His incompetency witnessed by his peers. 

Once again, he wished he was anywhere else but here.

**Meredith’s POV**

Mer felt as if her mind was submerged in water. She walked away from Katy’s room, the event repeating itself in front of her eyes, clouding her vision. She could hear people calling out to her, but all she could hear was the beat of her heart. Her hands trembled, and her body felt clammy. 

_She’d almost let her patient die._

She ran out into the cold air and pouring rain, Cristina’s voice making it through her mental haze, and tried to force down the bile clawing up her throat. She barely made it to a tree before her stomach contracted violently and chunky, brinny sick spewed out of her mouth. 

She braced herself against the tree, trying to push away her panic. She couldn’t let it happen right now. She needed to get away.

 _I need Harry._ She pushed away from the tree, the words logged in her mind like a mantra, keeping her grounded until she could get to him. He would make it okay.

She saw Cristina standing there with a concerned expression. Feeling exposed, Mer muttered threateningly, “If you tell anyone, ever…”, but trailed off as she walked back into the hospital.

Taking out her phone, she sent a text to the man who had been a friend, mentor, father, brother, but most importantly, a safe haven to her since she was sixteen.

The text was a simple bat emoji, but he would understand. It was their little signal.

His response arrived in less than three seconds, ‘Level 2, Room 207’.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Episode(s): A Hard Day's Night cont. (S01E02)

**Neurosurgeon, Ben Carson, once said, “You don’t have to be a brain surgeon to be a valuable person. You become valuable because of the knowledge that you have. And that doesn’t mean you won’t fail sometimes. The important thing is to keep trying.” Most say that being a surgeon is too hard, or takes too much time, and they’re right. For every one step forward, you take four back, never seeming to get ahead. You spend eight years in school, a year as an intern, and then six more as a resident, just trying to make all your hard work matter. Sometimes you save a patient, and sometimes you lose one. Sometimes you feel like it was all worth it, and sometimes you just want to walk away and never look back. The thing is, despite all that, I can’t… don’t want to walk away.**

**Meredith’s POV**

Mer knocked on Harry’s office door with a quiet, “It’s me.” It was precisely where his text had said it would be, the second floor of the surgical wing. Only, it had taken her a good fifteen minutes of getting lost, rerouting, and backtracking before she’d found it. Maybe, she should’ve been paying more attention during the orientation tour, then she wouldn’t keep getting lost. That thought, however, made her remember getting off-tracked while transporting her seizure patient for a CT scan, which made her thoughts settle back on Katy, and what had happened.

Hearing his answering, “Come in,” she slowly opened the door to see various objects levitating out of a box and settling onto walls and other flat surfaces. Directing this controlled whirlwind like an experienced conductor was Harry’s ‘elf’ Winky. He obstinately refused to refer to them as ‘house-elves’, something about SPEW.

They both looked up at her at the same time. “Hello, Little Miss,” the Elf greeted with a sweet wrinkly smile, before turning back to her task.

Acknowledging the greeting, she turned a look of fond exasperation towards Harry, who looked to be working through a sufficiently large pile of paperwork at his desk. He just gave her an amused little shrug, which Mer from past experience, knew to mean, ‘Don’t look at me, she still refuses to call me anything, but Little Master.’ 

Despite this moment of welcomed distraction, thoughts of Katy intruded back in. Each second ticked away slowly as Harry continued to look at her eyes, his own tightened in consideration. Suddenly, as if he could sense the turbulence in her soul, he agilely rose from his chair.

“Come here, Bambi,” his invitation reinforced by the slight lift of his arms. Mer gave him a sad smile at the childish endearment and stepped into his embrace with a relieved sigh. She allowed his strength to bear her weight, and just like that, everything became peaceful. No more whooshing in her ears; no more nausea; no more panic; no more turmoil. Just the calm, exuding from Harry. Harry must have given Winky a look over her shoulder because she thought she heard an almost inaudible pop, she’d learned to associate with ‘elf travel’. 

She smiled and tried to snuggle closer, earning a quiet chuckle from her  _ brother _ , and a tightening of his arms. He always gave the best hugs, not overly fleeting or excessively exuberant, but steady and protective. Hermione had once told her it might be because he’d never gotten hugged during his childhood, so when he hugged, he poured all his caring into it. Teddy said it was the aura from the protective nature of his magic. Whatever it was, it was one of the best feelings in the world. 

“Feeling better?” He inquired. 

“Mmmm…,” Mer confirmed but didn’t make a move to separate from the hug.

“Want to tell me what happened?” he asked calmly, gliding his hand over her back in a soothing manner.

“I don’t know how to start,” she confessed, not sure how to express what she felt.

“Ok, why don’t you start with how your day went?” Harry offered, giving Mer a chance to focus on something else before coming back to the issue at hand.

Feeling much more settled, Mer left the safety of his arms and moved to sit on one of the cushioned chairs, and noticed a serving set with tea and coffee on the ottoman.

Pouring herself a coffee, and Harry some tea, she began to tell Harry about her day.

“It started out well, but a little weird. There are three other interns in my group, Cristina Yang, George O’Malley, and Izzie Stevens.” After a brief pause to think of the best way to describe them, she added, “Cristina graduated first in her class at Stanford and seems very zealous and competitive about becoming a surgeon. George is uh, a little awkward, rambles a lot, but nice. Izzie is really pretty. She used to be a model, apparently.”

She peered up at Harry to see his reaction only to see him leaning back in his chair, relaxed with his cup of tea in hand, and right leg crossed over the left, and looking content to just let her talk.

So, taking a sip of coffee, she continued. “Our supervisor is a resident called the Nazi,” and as a thought occurred to her, she mentioned, “I think you might have already met her. Her name is Dr. Miranda Bailey, and Cristina said she saw her in the OR during your surgery. Oh! Congratulations, by the way, on your first surgery here, I heard it was quite amazing. I’m really sad I missed out on seeing it if I’d known…

“Mer,” Harry interrupted, bringing her prattling to a halt. 

“Right, sorry,” she apologized a little bashfully and waited to give him a chance to acknowledge said meeting.

Resting his cup on his knee, he instead asked, “So, what’s your impression of her?”

Surprised at his question, she explained, “Well, what she lacks in height, she definitely makes up for with her personality. She’s very, um... brusque?” Taking the laughter in his eyes for agreement, she became more involved in her telling, “Did you know she started us off with five rules? Don’t be a suck-up; answer every page at a run; don’t wake her if she’s sleeping unless the patient is actually dying; the patient better not be dead by the time she gets there, and I quote, ‘not only would you have killed someone, you would have woken me for no good reason’, and when she moves, we move.”

She looked at Harry, expecting him to be entertained by Bailey’s rules, but instead, he looked thoughtful. “She’s right you know,” he stated, surprising Mer.

“Seriously?” she asked. “Seriously?” she added for emphasis.

Leaning forward to place his cup on the ottoman, he rested his elbows on his knees and crossed his fingers. “To a mentor, sucking up means you’re more worried about playing nice, appealing to their person, or looking good to your superiors instead of doing your job, which is learning to be a great doctor. Every page must be answered in a way appropriate to its urgency. Not by your decision of what is urgent…”

At hearing this, Mer lowered her eyes and whispered, “I didn’t answer my page.”

“Mer?” Harry asked with the concern of both a brother and her professional superior. 

“I… We,” she stuttered over her words, her breaths becoming shallower, “A fifteen-year-old girl was brought in this morning for new onset of seizures, and she had a grand mal en route. I was given the responsibility of overseeing her. I was told to take her for a CT, but it took me a while to find the Radiology Department, and she was so annoying the entire time. She was more worried about missing out on her teen pageant than having seizures. 

You know, she tricked the nurses into paging me 911 because she couldn’t find the right channel on TV. When,” she took a deep fortifying breath to trudge on, “when I got the second 911 page, I thought it was her being a brat again. So I walked in-instead of running. 

When I got there, she was in the middle of another grand mal, and all the nurses were standing around her. They were yelling at me all at once,” Mer’s brain sped through the dreadful scene, “asking me what to do.” 

“Everything I came up with wasn’t working, and I asked them to keep paging the Attending, again and again, but he wasn’t answering, and I couldn’t think of anything else that might work, and then she flatlined, and I had to defibrillate her, but her heart wouldn’t start. The nurse asked me to call it, but how could I do that? 

“I’m a doctor, I’m supposed to save lives. She was fine when I left her,” Mer said almost beggingly.

“She didn’t make it?” Harry asked for clarification.

“No, her sinus rhythm came back,” she supplied, a bit more calmly, “but then her attending,” another bracing breath, “her attending, Dr. Shepherd, he ran in and he…” 

Harry moved from his seat to kneel beside her, placing a hand on her arm in support. “Hey, shh…, it’s alright, just take deep breaths.” 

Mer focused on breathing until the feeling of boiling panic leveled out to a simmer. 

Harry slightly increased the pressure on her arm in a silent cue to stand, took her seat, and pulled her down to his lap. The last time they’d sat like this was when she found out her mom had been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. 

“Why did the thought of this Dr. Shepherd, make you panic?” Straight to the point, Mer thought. She really did sometimes hate Harry’s intuitive nature. He’s always had this way about him, at least for as long as she had known him, but Harry was becoming almost scary-good the older he got. Mer silently giggled at how Teddy liked to refer to the phenomenon as Harry’s ‘spidey sense’. It had made it hard over the years for Mer and then Teddy to get away with anything. 

Mer knew she was distracting herself, she should just tell Harry, like ripping off a band-aid. “So I went to find Dr. Shepherd about my patient, Katy, and it was Derek.” Mer paused to gauge Harry’s response.

“Derek?” Harry finally asked in a somewhat confused tone, and then uncertainly added, “I’m aware his first name is Derek. I’ve read several of his articles in journals, and Dr. Webber informed me he was joining the staff as the New Head of Neurosurge.” After a brief lull, and with a tone heavy with parental accusation, Harry added, “Meredith?  _ Why _ does it matter that his name is  _ Derek _ ?”

Feeling like she was back in high school, caught sneaking back into the house, she hesitantly confessed, “Well, um, you know the guy from last nigh…,” but trailed off at hearing Harry’s drawn-out exasperated moan of, “Merrrrr, no….”

Straightening on his lap and feeling a little petulant, she defended, “It’s not like I knew who he was before I slept with him? How was I supposed to know that he was going to be one of my bosses here?”

“I get it, Luv, I just… Remember our conversation this morning, about rumors of nepotistic rumors?” advised Harry.

“I know, I already told him that we should pretend it never happened, just move on and act professional.” While Mer had to admit he was charming, it would be inappropriate to carry on in light of the disparity in their positions.

“OK, then what happened with Dr. Shepherd and Katy?”

“I don’t know, he was just so angry, Harry. He yelled that I should’ve been monitoring the patient. He didn’t say it, but I know he was blaming me for not watching her better. If I had, maybe her seizure wouldn’t have gotten so bad,” Mer explained with apparent self-deprecation. “Harry, he just told me to leave,” she finished in a near whisper. 

**Harry’s POV**

Harry tilted his head back, allowing the backrest to dig into his neck and closed his eyes as he tightened his hold around the distraught girl. He allowed silence to pervade the room as he fell into the old habit and contemplated Mer’s situation. This wasn’t the first time he’d found himself in this position, and he could say with complete certainty that it wouldn’t be the last. 

The first time had been during Harry’s first year as an intern. He’d found an eighteen-year-old Meredith crying her eyes out in one of the hospital’s supply closets, over another fight with her mother. Having lived through the  _ care _ of negligent, and at times outright abusive adults, who should’ve treated him like family, he had felt a kinship with the scrawny little teenager. With the life he’d led, it had been practically impossible for him to walk away from a child in need, but the sight of the fledgling ‘bond string’ attaching them had cemented his fate. He hadn’t known if the bond meant they were destined to become friends, family, enemies, or  _ Merlin forbid _ , lovers. What he had known, was that he could not walk away, so he’d stayed, and the rest, as they say, became history. 

One of the reasons for Harry making the move to SGH had been the scads of ‘bond strings’ he had seen during his interview here last month, and he didn’t know what the future held in their regard, but he had known that destiny was pulling him towards this place. 

Looking down now, Harry noticed his ‘bond’ with Mer was substantial and fiery in its vitality. The sight brought a content smile to his face. Thankfully, it had settled in a familial capacity, because while he’d come to cherish Mer, it was entirely in the sense of a younger sibling; something he had craved for, for as long as he could remember. 

Deciding on his options, Harry called out, “Mer.” The quick uptilt of her head let him know he had her attention. “You know I try not to sugar coat things, so, first, you were wrong to not answer an emergency page right away, but it’s OK. It’s your first day as an intern, and no one is expecting you to get everything right. Second, you should always forward any emergency page you receive to your resident supervisor because, again, you’re an intern, you are not responsible for making calls on a patient’s treatment. Your only job right now is to do what your superiors say and follow their leads, it’s not to treat patients and make judgment calls, and I’m sorry you were placed in that position.”

“No one said anything about paging our resident, I didn’t know I was supposed to,” came the uncertain response from Mer. 

Harry made a mental note to bring this up either with Richard or at the next department meeting. Something had gone very wrong with that scenario, and he would try to find out the whys and hows. 

“I’ll try to find out about that, but for now, the last point. Mer, again, I’m sorry Dr. Shepherd yelled at you. I’m going to say this once and only once. Katy’s seizure and her arrested heart are  _ not _ your fault.” Harry saw Mer’s disbelieving look and explained, “Think about this, would your running to her room have stopped the onset of her seizure?”

“Well, no,” she answered.

“Would your early arrival have meant that you would have thought of more options to calm her seizing?”

“I don't think so, I tried everything I knew,” she said, her tone becoming a bit more sure.

“Mer, it’s true you made a mistake with the page, but I’m sure it’s taught you not to make that mistake again, and it didn’t mean that the patient’s episode was your fault. Understood?” asked Harry to gauge her morale.

“Yeah,” she considered, “I just, Harry, my patient almost died. On my first day.”

“Bambi, being a surgeon and a doctor, it’s hard for a reason. You have to live each day, each case, knowing that people’s lives are in your hands. There comes a moment for each one of us when it becomes more than just a game. For you, maybe that moment was today, or perhaps it will be tomorrow or the next day, but Luv, whenever that moment happens, comes, you have to close your eyes, look inside yourself, and decide. Do you take a step forward and continue to be a surgeon, or do you turn around and walk away. 

“So, my question to you is this, can you walk away?” he challenged.

Mer had sat up straight while he spoke, listening with scrutiny, and at his question, inhaled and closed her eyes. She remained there, still as a statue, as each second slowly ticked away. With her eyes still closed, brows furrowed in deep thought, she finally whispered, “No. I want to go back.”

“I’m glad you found your answer.”

Mer opened her eyes and grinned.

Harry watched Mer stand up and offer a hand to help him up, not that it made a difference, with her puny frame and all. “Thanks...” said Mer giving him a tight hug and gave him an impish smile “for always being my Batman.”

Harry gave her an indulgent smile. “You and Teddy really are ‘birds of a feather.’ Now, are you on break or skipping out on your first day?”

“No, I let the team know I needed to step away, so I took a break,” Meredith explained as she drifted over to his desk and poked the gold snitch sitting in its cradle. 

“What do they have you doing after this?” Harry inquired while he wove a quick charm to expand the room just enough to be easily overlooked. Then he enlarged the bench in the corner, making it just large enough for him to comfortably crash on if needed.

“Well, as far as I know, I’m still on Katy’s case, and since we still have no idea what’s causing her seizures, I’m not sure.” The snitch curled it’s delicate wings around her finger, nuzzling it in affection. “Hmm, in my experience, if you can’t find an obvious physical cause for a patient’s condition, then fall back on their personal and past medical histories,” he advised, then accompanied by a slight shrug, added, “you know what kind of things pop up.”

“I’ll look into it. So far there’s been nothing in her medical histo…,” Mer started to say before getting interrupted but her phone alarm. “Oh shoot, my break’s over, and I never got to ask you how your day was going.”

“No worries, Luv, we’ll talk later. You better hurry up if you don’t want your Nazi on your case,” he teased as he saw Mer to the door, and pecked the crown of her head. “Go be a good doctor.”

As he watched Mer rush towards the elevators, he once again reminded himself to speak to Richard, see if the evident discrepancies made by the staff, during the seizure, were a single occurrence, perhaps due to panic, or the current status quo of the hospital’s procedures. If the latter was the case, then Richard needed to get more actively involved and keep a tighter rein on his staff, but first, he needed to get through some of this, twice be-damned paperwork.

_ Why did I agree to become Head again? _

**Cristina’s POV**

If you had asked Cristina, what she saw herself doing on her first shift as a surgical intern, she would have said, “Consulting with patients, watching surgeries, learning from some of the top doctors in their fields, or maybe even getting to scrub in”. What she would  _ not _ have said was, “Researching with the daughter of Ellis Grey”. Yet, here she was, amongst the library shelves, sitting on the floor side-by-side with Meredith, with files and books scattered around them resembling an impact zone. 

In light of still not having a reason for the patient’s seizures, Shepherd had assigned a challenge to all interns. Whoever could find the cause, got the chance to scrub in on the surgery. It seemed too good to be true. Cristina had thought that if she and Meredith put their heads together, they would have a better shot at one of them scrubbing in. Her chances got even better when the willowy intern had outright stated she didn’t want to work with Shepherd.

_ A surgeon, not wanting to scrub in? Not a chance. _ Something definitely happened there. The other woman had refused to explain, however, and at the moment, Cristina had gracefully ignored the issue. Nonetheless, the thought continued to niggle at her. 

Now, over an hour later, they were still searching through past files and journals with nothing to show for it. 

Thinking of all the possible causes, and trying to narrow down their options, Cristina listed, “Well, she doesn't have anoxia, chronic renal failure or acidosis. It's not a tumor because her CT's clean,” and with the barest of thought, “Are you seriously not going to tell me why you won't work with Shepherd?” Cristina asked, caving in to her curiosity, her voice low as she adjusted the book lying against her knees.

“No. What about infection?” Meredith questioned, pencil tracing the page as she read each line, and stubbornly dismissed Cristina’s own.

Quickly perusing through her notes, she replied, “No. There's no white count, she has no CT lesions, no fevers, nothing in her spinal tap, just tell me.” The other intern paused and glanced around, avoiding any eye contact with Cristina.

“You can't comment, make a face, or react in any way.” she finally surrendered, making Cristina sit up just a little straighter and stare at Meredith expectantly. “We had sex.” 

_ Ooo, Kay! Not what I expected, uh...  _ Cristina opened her mouth, shut it, blinked, looked away casually, all within the blink of an eye, and asked, “What about an aneurysm?”

“No blood on the CT, and no headaches.” replied Meredith. 

“Okay. There's no drug use, uh, no pregnancy, no trauma…” The Korean woman trailed off,  _ don’t do it, don’t do it _ , “...was he good? I mean, he looks like he would be, was it any good?” 

Meredith pushed to her feet and reshelved the book she was studying with a frown.  _ Huh, maybe he’s the type that just looks like he’s God’s gift to women, but not actually good at delivering. Still, though, that man sure is dreamy. _

“We’re out of answers? What if no one comes up with anything?” She asked as she sat down on a stool. Mer’s elbows rested on her knees as she stared hopefully at Cristina, once again calmly ignoring Cristina’s question.  _ Damn the girl’s steel nerves. _

“You mean if she dies?” She said instead.

“Yeah,” Meredith nodded, and Cristina’s head fell back against the shelf in surrender.

“This is gonna sound really bad, but I  _ really _ wanted that surgery,” she admitted with unapologetic honesty. 

_ Most interns would kill for this surgery.  _ **_I_ ** _ would kill for this surgery. _

“She's just never going to get the chance to turn into a person. The sum total of her existence will be almost winning Miss Teen whatever. You know what her pageant talent is?”

“They have talent?” Cristina replied dryly, but Meredith continued without missing a beat. 

“Rhythmic gymnastics,” she said slowly, her eyes focused on the thin carpet as a smile tugged at her lips. 

“Oh, come on!” exclaimed Cristina in disbelief, making them both chuckle at the absurdity. It suddenly occurred to her that she had started to see Meredith Grey in a new light. Sure, her mother was Ellis Grey, and she’d probably had the best education, but still, Mer hadn’t used it to get any favors, even with Shepherd. She was pretty down-to-earth, she tried her best, and she seemed competent in her skills. Cristina could respect that, in fact, so far, Meredith was the only intern she felt that for.  _ She’s smart, but she’s learning just like the rest of us.  _

“What is ‘rhythmim’ gymnastics?” Meredith asked between giggles, unable to even say it properly, “I don't know - I can't even say it, I don't know what it is.”

“Isn't it like something with a ball, and a-” Cristina stopped as Meredith suddenly stilled, and watched as a look of realization washed over the dirty blonde’s face, “- what? Meredith, what?”

“Get up! Come on!” Cristina rose to her own feet and quickly followed Meredith out of the library. 

**Meredith’s POV**

_ I’m a  _ **_bad_ ** _ person.  _

She and Cristina had been getting along so well, and then she had to go and ruin it. Mer knew it was her own fault.

Mer had known how much Cristina had wanted to scrub in for Katy’s surgery, craved it. How could she not, they were so similar, after all. They both wanted to be the best, but there were differences too. Where the other intern seemed almost relentless, impatient, and often indelicate in her pursuit of success, Mer, for now, just wanted to be in the OR, didn’t matter in which capacity. She just wanted to learn everything she could, memorize each technique, and eventually get the chance to use her talent to make a difference in someone’s life. Harry had been right when he said that she’d learned all the background knowledge, now she needed to go out there and build practical experience. 

Despite knowing all this, Mer had still cheated the other intern out of her chance. She’d offered her the forbidden fruit, and then yanked it right out of her fingertips. 

_ I am  _ **_such_ ** _ a bad person.  _

So here she was, sitting dazed on a gurney outside the OR, trying her hardest to make a decision. Despite the reassurances that Shepherd had given her, she still wanted to go back and tell him to give it to Cristina, but she also wanted to scrub in herself so badly.

Still not coming to a decision with only thirty minutes left before the surgery, she took out her phone and sent a text.

**M** : Harry, I’m a bitch

**H:** ???

**M:** I betrayed Cristina

**M:** Shepherd offered a chance to scrub in to whomever could find the cause of Katie’s seizures

**M:** She asked to work together, so we have a better chance at getting it, and I told her she could have it

**M:** I didn’t wanna work with him because you know…

**M:** And we found it, but Shepherd, he picked me

**H:** To scrub in?

**M:** Yeah, keep up Batman 

**H:** You couldn’t say no

**M:** No, but I promised Cristina and now I don’t know what 2 do

**H:** You both put in = work?

**M:** Yeah

**H:** Who found the answer?

**M:** I did, after I thought of what you said about looking @ personal history

**H:** It’s fine Mer 

**H:** You are her assigned intern, you saved her life today, you found the cause

**M:** Funny, that’s exactly what Shepherd said

**H:** Guess he’s not as bad as you thought?

**M:** :) But what about Cristina? 

**H:** Mer this is an extraordinary opportunity for any intern

**H:** If she’s as competitive as you say she is, she’ll get over it, but don’t do it again

**H:** You are a surgeon 

**H:** Don’t give away surgeries when you can be learning from them & do  _ not _ let your progress depend on your mood :(

**H:** Don’t let  _ anything _ get in the way of you taking your shot Mer, be unstoppable, but be ethical

**M:** Yes Sir :D

**H:** When is your surgery scheduled?

**M:** In 30 mins

**H:** Break a leg

**M:** I’m just gonna stand there and observe

**H:** Well, break a leg standing ;D

**M:** You’re so weird. Bye

**Harry’s POV**

Harry glanced at the clock from where he was sitting with Debbie at the nurses’ station and realized he only had ten minutes left if he wanted to make to Mer’s first surgery. The thought made him smile in nostalgia. He could still remember his own first surgery as an intern like it was yesterday, and now, here was Mer, eight years later, taking part in her first. Sometimes, he still couldn’t believe it had been that long. 

He turned to Debbie, one of the head surgical nurses, to excuse himself. “Debbie, I’m sorry for cutting this short, but I need to go view a surgery.” With an appreciative smile, he added, “Thank you for bearing with me through all my novice questions.”

The highly experienced nurse looked at him fondly and said, “Anytime, Dr. Potter-Black. It’s nice to see a surgeon with common courtesy. You’re one of the very few around here.”

“Uh…,” he faltered, not knowing how to respond to that statement. “That’s kind of sad,  _ really _ .”

“Trust me, you have no idea,” she intimated with her nose scrunched, then added, “Let us know if you ever need anything, we’ll be happy to help. Then with a teasing lilt, she voiced, “With  _ that  _ accent, it really won’t be a hardship.”

Quiet giggles came from some of the other nurses at the station, making Harry feel slightly sheepish, before he donned a shocked look on his face, leaned closer to the red-headed nurse, and asked in a loud whisper, “Are you  _ flirting _ with me, Miss Debbie?” 

The giggles got louder, and with a smirk, the usually strict nurse shooed him away in mock affront, “Get gone, you rascal.”

Harry laughed at her response.  _ So much like Minerva. Oh, the fun I could have. _ With one last pleasant farewell of, “Goodbye, Ladies,” he made his way towards the ORs. 

He quickly found the right room by checking the surgery board and went to claim a seat in the overhead viewing gallery. Upon arrival, he found the room empty, except for the lone woman of Asian descent, Korean, if he wasn’t wrong, and was either a resident or an intern, by the color of her scrubs. However, that was the second thing he noticed, the first being the undeniable ‘bond’ forming between her and as he looked down to the room below, Mer. _ Huh. Maybe I’m not the only one with bonds galore in this place.  _ Yet, another ‘potential bond’ attaching the intern to both himself and Shepherd. Just like he’d noticed with Miranda Bailey, and Nurse Debbie downstairs. Harry knew from past experience that ‘potential bonds’ were just that. Potentials for a stronger connection that would forever linger in your life. Whether for the best or the worst, he was never sure. He wasn’t that surprised at seeing the yet translucent strings attaching Bailey and Debbie to him, as they seemed that wonderful individuals that he could really get ‘attached’ to, he thought amusedly. The thread between this woman and him might be because of her future relationship with Mer. 

_ I guess I’ll wait and see. No need to wonder about it now. That way lies madness.  _

The young woman currently sat with her arms crossed at her chest, staring intently towards the preparations taking place, down in the operation theater, but looked over as the door closed behind him.

He could tell the second she recognized him. Her eyes became rounder in surprise, and her mouth loosened as if to speak, but then her throat contracted as she swallowed before uttered in a breathy voice, “I.., Hi.”

He found himself amused at this absurd reaction people had towards him, which had, unfortunately, become much too familiar in the mundane world.  _ I really wish it had just remained in the wizarding world.  _

“You’re Harrison Potter-Black,” she finally declared in amazement.

“I am?” He couldn’t help himself.  _ Why do people always feel the need to tell me my own name? _ , he wondered.

“I, uh, sorry.” She chuckled in embarrassment, as she got up from the bench to approach him. “It’s just surprising to see you here. I’ve read so much of your procedures and research, and I never expected to meet you.” She still looked just a tiny bit dazed but seemed to be coming back to herself, well enough.

“Thank you. It’s always nice to hear my research is reaching others and making a difference,” the surgeon replied amiably as he shook her hand. “You must be a resident or...,” he inquired while moving to take a seat, and invited her to do the same.

“Oh, Yang. I mean, Cristina Yang. I just started as a first-year surgical intern.” Oh right, Mer’s ambitious and betrayed teammate. He noticed the hint of pride, which was understandable, as long as it didn’t get in the way.

“One of Bailey’s interns?”

She nodded, clearly surprised at his awareness.

He observed the proceedings below, taking note of Mer standing off to the side while Shepherd started the craniotomy to remove the patient’s skull cap. The tawny blonde intern’s eyes glanced up, doing a double-take at his presence. He could just envision the grin underneath her mask. Giving her a swift wink, he tilted his head slightly towards Shepherd. She seemed to understand the gesture because she turned her attention back to the surgery, her attention alight with the interest of a novice. 

“Tell me what’s happening with the patient?” Harry decided to test her to better understand her potential.

“You know about her?”

“I’ve heard enough,” he confirmed.

“Well, she…” Yang started recounting. What followed, coincided with what he’d learned from Mer, but he did learn that his sister’s peer at least had a solid head on her shoulders. She displayed the qualities of a hard worker, but often too straightforward at times. Harry concluded that while she was talented and passionate at a similar level to his ‘skinny, fond annoyance’, it would need to be tempered by firm guidance. He could see why Mer had gravitated to this one so fast.

_ Good for her. She needs more friends her own age. _

He had the younger woman walk him through the surgical procedure, and once again, found himself pleasantly impressed. “You seem to have researched the process exceptionally well, are you on the case?” 

He couldn’t hold himself back, thinking about Mer’s texts. He knew he shouldn’t influence bonds since one didn’t indicate what kind it was. For all he knew, the relationship between the women could be of rivalry, instead of friendship, but if it was the latter, then he didn’t want this woman’s current resentment to fester. 

“I had the chance of scrubbing in, but…”

“Tell me,” he requested conversationally, but his tone, unconsciously, coming out similar to the one he often used in front of the Wizengamot or when directing ER situations. 

Instinctively responding to his authority, Yang informed him about the events surrounding ‘betrayal’ without giving away the specifics.  _ Smart girl. Brusquely ambitious, but can be tactful when needed.  _

Deciding to help the distraught intern come to terms because the circumstances hadn’t been precisely fair to her, he asked, “So you went to your peer, expecting a 50/50 chance?”

She nodded.

“How did you expect that to play out originally, what if your 50% hadn’t come through?”

Seeing her look of contemplation, Harry resumed, “Who did more research?”

“We both did it together.”

“So, it can be assumed that you both did an equal amount?”

Another nod.

“Who finally came up with the answer?” Harry tried the same tactic hoping to lead her to a logical conclusion.

“...Meredith,” she confessed, forgetting, for a moment, to hide any names under ambiguity, but then rebutted, “but she promised.”

“You said you are a surgical intern, so tell me, what is your deepest wish, right now?”

“To scrub in,” she replied, sans hesitation.

“So tell me, if you had convinced yourself out of doing so, for whatever reason, but then came face-to-face with it, would you, _could_ _you_ , walk away?”

Leaving her with that soul searching thought, he turned his full attention to the attending surgeon performing the surgery.

_ So  _ **_that_ ** _ is, Derek. _

He only knew about the man through his work and a short introduction at a medical conference in New York. What really disturbed him, however, was yet another bond branching from Mer’s soul; this one towards the neurosurgeon. The man was even older than Harry himself.  _ Perhaps, it's of a mentor and student?  _ He hoped.

He wanted to talk to Mer afterward, but received a page before they could finish up with the surgery. He turned to the Asian intern, who had quietly sat and observed the procedure, since their talk. “I need to take my leave, but it was nice to meet you, and don’t worry, you seem to have a good head on your shoulders. Keep up with your hard work, there will be plenty more surgeries for you to choose from.”

“Thank you,” she responded genuinely flattered, and with a reassuring, “Good Luck,” to her, and a quick glance towards Mer to catch her eye, he headed back to his department.

It was now, just over an hour since Harry and Mer had returned back home. It had been an extremely long and tiring shift, for the both of them. While Harry may be used to pulling long shifts already, from his years at Mayo, this one had involved familiarizing himself with a whole new hospital, department, staff, and sets of policies and protocols unique to SGH, making it unusually tiring.

Since he’d cooked the chicken stir-fry, Mer was currently cleaning up the kitchen for the night. He’d had to ask Winky to pick up groceries for them, as Mer had wanted to stop off at the ‘Home’ to visit Ellis, and he’d known he wouldn’t have had the inclination to go to the market. 

Visiting Ellis always took a toll on both of them, but especially Mer. Ellis had been diagnosed with an advanced stage of Alzheimer’s, while Mer had still been in med school, and the effects of her devolution were heart-wrenching to witness. On the one hand was Ellis, a strong, talented, and ambitious woman, who was now losing her sense of self. She was no longer able to remember which period of her life she was living in. Some days would be spent with her reliving through her residency years, while others during her attending ones. On some Mer was still a little girl to her, and on others, she was a rebellious college student. 

On the other side was Mer, who had already had a strained relationship with the woman. She’d often been neglected, told to stop being a nuisance, and left to her own devices because her mother didn’t have enough time for her. Now she had to treat that same woman with kindness, without ever getting a chance to lay out her resentment for the woman’s callous treatment. 

After these visits, Mer often needed a little time to herself. So Harry had, for the time being, parked his arse in one of the single sofas, situated in front of the fireplace. He found it to be the height of relaxation, as it reminded of the many years he’d spend in the same exact way inside the Gryffindor common room. 

Showers had been taken, dinner had been eaten, and he just wanted to wind down for the night with a bit of drawing, a practice he had kept up with from his time in therapy after the war. It had let him express on paper, what he couldn’t put into words, even to himself. He’d actually gotten quite good at it over the years. Nothing on the level of his friend and fellow Gryffindor, Dean Thomas, but he could hold his own. 

He’d soon discovered it worked amazingly at calming his mind, which along with occlumency lessons his ‘squib’ therapist had forced on him, had become a salvation for him to provide order for his thoughts, and to work through the logjam of issues he’d been left with after the war. 

For the moment, however, he allowed his hand to mindlessly lead the charcoal pencil instinctively as he tried to process his thoughts, tangled as they were currently, like a handful of Gillyweed. 

He found his thoughts turning towards the conundrum of Dr. Shepherd and Mer. He knew she had told him she’d put a definite end to their ‘relationship’, but one look at her eyes, and he had known that her heart wasn’t settled yet. At least, she’d resolved things with Yang to a positive outcome.

After a long internal debate, he came to the decision that he would see where it led. No matter the outcome, Mer had the right to her own choices, and to explore where her destiny guided. Something he had desperately wished for, and needed, during his earlier years. He would just make sure that he was there for her whenever she needed him like he’d been since their first meeting. 

He needed to take care of a more immediate problem, however. As Mer had told Ellis this evening, she had decided to keep her mother’s house and get roommates to help with the expenses. No matter how much Harry had tried to offer his help, she stuck to her decision to take care of it herself. As frustrating as it was for him, he could respect her need to be her own person. Harry had felt the same way when the Weasleys had offered him a place in their home after the war. While he’d loved them for it, he’d just needed to find his own place in the world. He had spent so long living for others and their expectations, he’d needed desperately to find himself and his purpose, on his own.

Honestly, though, he was happy at her decision. It meant she was starting to open herself up and invite people more intimately into her life than just the mundane interactions between colleagues. Doctors were notorious for not having social lives, after all. However, this did mean that he had to contact a real estate agent, the Goblins had recommended. He wanted Mer to expand her social circle, but he was not going to live in a house full of colleagues, or  _ Merlin forbid _ subordinates. That definitely had the potential to cause some awkward occurrences. Not to mention, he would have to remain constantly vigilant, to make sure none of the others caught sight of him performing magic, or accidentally come across any magical items. Not to mention, what a SNAFU it would be if the tenants caught sight of any unsuspected, but frequent visitors like Teddy, or Bill, or Fleur, or… No, he  _ definitely _ needed his own place.

Taking a closer look at his drawing pad, he saw the beginnings of Mer, as she’d looked watching the surgery today, and moved to finish it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who is leaving comments, they really motivate us to keep writing :))
> 
> Episode: First Cut is the Deepest (S01E02)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nurse, Teri Lynn Thompson, once prayed, “Let me dedicate my life today, to the care of those who come my way. Let me touch each one with healing hands, and the gentle art for which I stand. Then tonight, when the day is done, let me rest in peace, if I've helped just one.” It has happened countless times over the years that I’m faced with treating someone that I find abhorrent or just simply don’t agree with, but there were just as many occasions where I wished with all my heart that I could do more. These happened when I was an Auror, when I was a Healer, and now as a surgeon. The magical people might like to delude themselves into believing that they are different from the mundane, but people everywhere are the same. One thing has always stayed constant, however. It is not up to me to choose who I help, and it’s disheartening when I can’t, but at the end of the day, if I gave it my best and have affected even one life, then my world is a brighter place.

**Harry’s POV**

“Mer, Hurry up! We’ve only got twenty minutes left!” yelled the frustrated wizard. He’d been sitting in the kitchen with a cup of Oolong tea when Mer had come dashing in for a glass of water. Apparently, she hadn’t heard her alarm, and now they were running late. That had been thirty minutes ago. Harry rechecked the time and started placing his shrunken packed lunch and hospital-issued, secured laptop in his messenger bag. Putting on his jacket, he hollered, “I’ll be waiting in the car! If you’re not out there in five minutes, I’m leaving, and don’t forget to lock the door behind you!”

Reaching the driveway he slid into his own Audi, ‘Nimbus’, which, along with the rest of his things had arrived via a moving service, to keep up with mundane appearances, two days ahead of schedule. Much to the head-shaking exasperation of the females in his life, he’s nicknamed his car in honor of his very first broom. The guys got it, though. Sometimes a man needed things purely for the enjoyment of it, and while he still flew and played Quidditch often enough, it really wasn’t as frequently as he wanted. Hence, the car. 

Speaking of flying, Harry made a mental note to arrange a pick-up game with the others. With how busy he’d been with moving, it was going on three months since their last match. 

He breathed a sigh of relief as the dark-blonde intern, came hopping on one foot, trying to get a leopard print flat on the other. No sooner did she get in than Harry jetted out of the driveway.

“I’m so, so sorry. I got caught up last night reading your latest article in the New England Journal, and didn’t hear the alarm at all,” she said breathlessly.

“It’s fine, Luv, I wasn’t angry, just trying to get us out of there in time,” he reassured, and catching sight of the printed paper clutched in her hand, he asked, “Is that a notice for roommates?”

“Yeah, some of the utilities are due in a few weeks, so I really can’t afford to wait,” she rationalized.

Noticing his silent sideways glance, she added mulishly, “Harry, I don’t need you to be my Batman for this.” 

“Since we’re on the topic of roommates,” he received a warning glare, “I put down an offer for that Queen Anne Victorian we toured. The agent said the owners were agreeable, so it might get finalized by tonight.”

“You could stay,” she mumbled.

“Mer, we’ve discussed why it’s not safe for me too, especially around mundanes.”

“I know, but I still wish you could, what if…,” she finished, hesitantly.

Having known this girl long enough to understand what she wasn’t saying, he gave her an arched look. “If eight years of living in two different states, didn’t make us grow distant, do you really think, living a few minutes away will?” He asked, referring to her time in college and med school.

“I was just really looking forward to finally spending more than a few days together.”

“You need friends, Luv, connections other than your colleagues. If you don’t, you’ll find yourself burning out too fast, and wasn’t it you who said, you didn’t want to lead the kind of life Ellis did? Plus, look at the bright side. Now you’ll have a place to get away when the roommates get to be too much.”

“I don’t appreciate it when you get all logical. It makes it really hard to win arguments,” Mer said, making Harry break out in full-blown laughter.

She was way too mature and melancholic for her age at times, but it warmed his heart every time she let show through her mannerisms, how much she trusted him.

“Oooh, speaking of school, any updates from Teddy? I haven’t seen him since early June.”

Mer’s question had his lips stretching in a joyful smile. His adorable sixteen-year-old adopted son had come down to visit Harry in Rochester at the start of his summer break. He’d just finished his OWL year at Hogwarts, and Mer her last semester of med school. He’d been delighted to hear about his dad’s move to Seattle. Still, if Harry had to guess, his reaction had more to do with Washington State being closer to California, where a certain fourteen-year-old Weasley Veela lived than anything to do with Harry’s work. Not that the boy would ever admit to anything of the sort. The older wizard was happy for the young metamorphmagus, glad that Teddy, and all the other children, got to enjoy the carefree life of teenagers that Harry and his friends had been denied.

Stopping at a red light, he glanced at the woman who had become nothing short of an aunt, to Teddy. “He’s good, called me last night, actually. He seems to be enjoying his time with his grandmother and just letting off some steam after OWLs. He joined the Summer Quidditch Camp again, of course, and decided to do a summer internship at the Potter Foundation under Andy’s supervision.”

“At least he’s having fun and keeping busy. You should’ve woken me up, though. With the time difference between here and Wales, I sometimes miss my chances to call him. Maybe I’ll just text him, but then again, maybe I’ll let him stew after he pulled that prank on me last time,” she schemed. 

The comment made Harry think of Teddy transfiguring his aunt’s hair into little, fine feathers that made it look like an unkempt poof ball. She hadn’t been able to go out for a week and had to force Harry to create a counterspell. Harry hoped she never found out he’d helped the boy create the spell for Mer in the first place, and had later exaggerated the time he needed to develop the counterspell. It really hadn’t been their fault though. The Marauder Legacy was just in their blood, and Mer really should know better by now.

**Izzie’s POV**

Izzie and their group, watched as Meredith, a darker blonde than Izzie herself, finished interviewing a random intern for her roommate ad as they waited for their resident, Dr. Bailey to arrive. Izzie had seen her ad post in the intern locker room earlier and was tempted herself. People had been flocking to Meredith all morning, but Izzie wasn’t sure what she was looking for in an applicant, because so far she hadn’t approved anyone.

As Meredith approached the group, Izzie couldn’t hold back her frustration any longer. “Why do you put up posters for roommates, if you don't _want_ roommates?”

“I do want roommates, but we're together a hundred hours a week, you want to live together too?” asked an equally annoyed Meredith.

“No. Absolutely not. I get enough of all o’ya at work,” Cristina chimed in as she joined the group.

“I need a place to live. My mom irons my scrubs. I _have_ to get out of there,” George pleaded, trying to make his case.

Without taking even a moment to blink, Meredith concluded, “I don't think it's a good idea.”

George continued, however. “But I can put down last, first _and_ deposit.”

Izzie, decided it was now or never. “I can _cook_ , and I'm an obsessive cleaner,” Izzie enticed, hoping to appeal to Meredith’s own lack of housekeeping inclinations. 

She desperately wanted Meredith to agree. Izzie was currently living out of a motel and _really_ needed to find a better, more permanent place. She also hoped that with them sharing a place, it could lead to a deeper friendship. 

Izzie had never had many friends. People in school had tended to treat her like a leper because she’d lived in a trailer park with a single parent. It hadn’t helped that adults had pulled their kids away even more, when she’d gone through some issues as a teen. Her mom hadn’t been the most reliable parent, either, so Izzie’d had to step up and take a lot of the responsibility for the household, and then college had been busy, so…

She just really hoped Meredith said yes.

“No! I just want two _total strangers_ who I don't have to talk to, or be nice to. I just want to go home and not have to think about work, and that’s not going to happen if work comes home with me,” Mer said, toggling her index finger between George and Izzie while walking backwards to where Bailey was coming down the stairs.

_Oh!...._

As their resident supervisor got ready to hand out the day’s assignments, Izzie mentally shifted gears from her housing situation, and hoped she got something better than rectal exams this time. The memory of that _still_ made her gag in disgust. 

Before the stout, black resident could speak however, she was interrupted by, in Izzie’s honest opinion, the most delicious English voice calling out for their resident.

They all turned their heads at once, and Izzie swallowed to wet her throat, as she saw one of the _finest_ examples of the male species, walk over to their group with a to-go cup in his hand.

Coming out of her shock, Izzie turned to Meredith and Cristina and whispered, “Why are there so many good looking doctors here?” only to get an acknowledging shrug from the Asian woman and an eye roll from the other blonde. 

Izzie realized he must be an attending, since he was wearing navy scrubs with a full sleeved, light grey crew t-shirt underneath.

“Good Morning, Dr. Bailey,” he greeted lightheartedly, “and Dr. Interns,” he continued turning towards them.

“Dr. Potter-Black. Morning,” replied Bailey, sounding almost excited. 

_Is she_ **_smiling_ ** _?_ Izzie glanced at the others to see she wasn’t the only one seeing things, and if that wasn’t shocking enough, Bailey added, “Thank you again, for allowing me on the intestine surgery, sir. It was a singular experience, getting to see an injury repaired with hardly any loss of organ functions.” It was weird, seeing Bailey be so nice to someone.

Giving her a sincere smile, _and wow, what a smile, and so young_ , the Attending surgeon replied, “No thanks needed. You handled yourself admirably, and performed some solid work there.” His critique made the Nazi look happily flustered, if Izzie looked _really_ closely, that is. 

“And, please, no ‘sirs’. I’m way too young, to feel that old,” he joked a little uncomfortably. 

“So, I’ve already had pleasant run-ins with Drs. Yang and Grey here, but who are your other ducklings?” he asked motioning towards George and her.

“Ah, well, this is George O’Malley and this is Izzie Stevens,” she introduced pointing towards each of us respectively, before indicating to the senior attending, “Everyone, this is Dr. Potter-Black, the new Head of both, ER and Trauma.”

“Ah yes, Dr. O’Malley,” he said shaking George’s offered hand, “you must be the intern that performed the appendectomy on your first day here.” He said, still smiling down at George.

 _Ouch! Poor George._ **_So not_ ** _the best way to start an introduction with someone as famous as Ellis Grey._

“Oh, uh, sorry,” the male intern’s ears getting pink. 

“What for?” The Trauma Head’s eyes peered at George inquisitively.

George must have finally realized the man’s tone wasn’t derogatory, and looked up with a bit more confidence. “Well, you know, for failing to finish the surgery.” he said with a touch of apathy, as if he might as well face up to it.

“That’s not how I see it, Dr. O’Malley. The number of interns that actually succeed in completing a surgical procedure, of that caliber, can be counted on one hand. Which means, it speaks a lot for your character that you, being the first one picked, chose to go ahead with the procedure despite being scared out of your wits, I’m sure.”

 _Wow! He’s really_ **_nice_ ** _, like genuinely,_ **_really_ ** _nice,_ thought a thoroughly shocked Izzie.

George smiled at the older surgeon’s encouraging analysis, looking completely opposite from a few seconds ago. “Thanks Dr. Potter-Black, it’s really great to meet you.” George shook his hand a lot more enthusiastically. 

“Likewise.” Then the attending turned his eyes towards her.

“Huh, uh, Hi.” _That is really embarrassing, Izzie. Say something normal. Say something normal. Something normal. Any. Thing._ “Ahem, Hi,” _smile brightly_ , “My name’s Izzie Stevens. It’s an honor to meet you Dr. Black.” _Noooo, damn it!_ Izzie cringed internally, as she watched the others give her disbelieving side glances.

“It’s good to meet you Dr. Stevens, and I understand it can be a mouthful to say both names, but it’s to honor both my families,” he said agreeably while glancing at everyone in the group to emphasize that the message included all of them.

“I’m sorry, it kind of just, uh,” she trailed off apologetically.

“Like I said, understandable.”

“Dr. Yang. I hope you were able to find a resolution to your earlier dilemma,” he asked without really asking. 

Izzie was curious, and from the other’s faces, including Bailey’s, she could tell they were as well. 

“Yes, I did. Thank you,” she said in that forthright manner that made her, so, well, Cristina.

“Glad to help. It would, as they like to say on this side of the Pond, ‘suck’, to start on such a difficult foot, right at the beginning.”

“And, Dr. Grey.”

“Hi,” said Meredith brazenly with a grin, taking them all by surprise. 

He just smirked, and turned back to Bailey. _Meredith’s been holding out on us_ , thought Izzie.

Their resident collected herself, and asked, “What can we do for you today, Dr.?”

“Actually, if you haven’t already decided on their assignments for today, ‘The Pit’, and the trauma wards, both could use some additional help, and before I forget, I got you one, I hear you like Mocha lattes?” he said as he handed Bailey the coffee cup.

Clearly amused, she took the cup, and then, with her usual ‘tough-as-nails’ disposition, asked archly, “Are you trying to bribe me, Dr. Potter-Black?”

The Attending’s emerald like eyes, became just a smidgeon sharper, as he gently rebuked, “I’m not in the habit of bribing, Dr. Bailey. I just thought you might appreciate a little pick me up as I’d heard Debbie mention you were already eight hours into your shift.” 

Dr. Bailey looked a little unsettled at her unintentional faux pas, and Izzie managed a whispered, “Wow, someone that can out-Nazi, the Nazi!”, getting subtle nods from the rest, before the woman noticed.

“My apologies then,” she recovered gracefully.

“Well, I look forward to working with you all soon.” Turning to Bailey, he added, “Send some my way, if possible,” and with a final nod he took his leave.

 _Seems like a nice person and an encouraging teacher, but doesn’t get rolled over easily_ , concluded Izzie, _not to mention the intensity of his presence._

Coming back to herself, Dr. Bailey gave out her orders, “George! You’re running the code team; Meredith, the trauma patients; Cristina, deliver the weekend labs to the patients; Izzie! You’re on sutures in ‘The Pit’.”

It took them a while to switch their brains back to work mode after that encounter. However, when Bailey saw them still there, she yelled, “Why’re y’all standing there? Move!” before she stormed back up the stairs.

“And, the Nazi’s back,” said Cristina, before they all skedaddled in their various directions.

**Meredith’s POV**

Mer rushed away from the other interns, and made a beeline for the elevators. She was pretty pleased at being assigned to Trauma and genuinely fascinated by the idea of working with Harry. From the rumor mill around Mayo, he was a phenomenal instructor with high expectations, but a patient demeanor. He had the reputation of being meticulous during procedures and the care of his patients, and performed even the most basic skills, with an elegance that spoke of immeasurable practice, and Mer really wanted to have his level of skill, one day.

Of course, Mer knew about his natural talent and patience as a teacher from personal interactions, but had yet to experience it in a professional setting. She’s been curious, ever since high school, about what he did on a day-to-day basis, and what he was like while ‘on the job’. Trauma was supposed to be fast-paced and doctors had to think quickly; even a few seconds could mean the difference between life or death. 

Reaching the elevators, Mer adjusted the files in her arms, only to falter at seeing Derek standing there. He looked up from his texting, and did a double take at seeing her, before going back to his phone. The intern internally debated whether or not she should take the stairs instead, but then decided to just step in front of him to keep herself from staring at his stupidly gorgeous face. 

“Seattle has ferry boats.” Whatever Mer thought he was going to say, that certainly hadn’t been it, but she couldn’t help the amused smile that pulled at her lips at the randomness of his comment.

“Yes,” she answered tentatively, unsure of where he was going with this.

“I didn't know that. I've been living here for six weeks. I didn't know there were ferry boats.”

“Seattle is surrounded by water on three sides,” she stated a touch sarcastically, as it _was_ an obvious fact.

“Hence the ferry boats,” said Derek, as if arriving at a conclusion. 

The neurosurgeon continued, seamlessly, as the elevator arrived, and people came out, “Now I have to like it here. I wasn't planning on liking it here. I'm from New York. Genetically engineered to dislike everywhere, _except_ Manhattan,” they were the only ones to board the elevator, as the man finished with a decisive, “I have a thing for ferry boats.”

“I'm not going out with you,” Mer stated bluntly, unwilling to continue floating in this quagmire of whatever _this_ was.

“Did I ask you to go out with me?” He asked coyly, _the charming bastard_ , “Do you _want_ to go out with me?” he asked flirtatiously.

“I'm not dating you. And I'm definitely not sleeping with you again. You're my boss.” Mer knew she needed to stay firm in this, no matter how much his presence befuddled her.

“I'm your boss' boss,” he corrected with a hint of technicality.

“You're my teacher. And my _teacher's_ teacher. _And_ you're my teacher.” she adamantly countered. 

“I'm your sister, I'm your daughter.” _Now_ he was just being flippant. 

“You're sexually harassing me.”

“I'm riding an elevator.” _He wants to be_ **_practical_ ** _now? I need to put an end to this, no matter how thrilling this back-and-forth feels._

“Look! I'm drawing a line. The line is drawn. There's a _big_ line.” _There, that should take care of that._

“So, this _line_. Is it imaginary, or do I need to get you a marker?” He turned around to face her and their eyes finally met for the first time this encounter. 

And that was it for her. Her determination faltered and was no longer enough to keep her at bay, and as if his simple action had opened the floodgates, Mer’s rationality got swept away in the current. She felt positively inebriated looking into the breadth of life shining in his eyes which always had the effect of pulling her magnetically towards him. _Is this what magic feels like?_ She wondered. It must be, because what else could negate all your logic with such ferocious intensity.

Before she could process what was happening in her hazed mind, Mer felt the files drop from her hands as if in slow motion, felt her entire being move towards this infuriating man. Her lips crashed against his, feeling their warmth and softness and her thoughts faded. Her entire world focused on the sensations caused by the press of their lips, the burning trail his hands left as they roamed over her torso, the glide of his textured hair through her fingers, the friction from their bodies pressed against one another, the humidity from their combined breaths, the annoying yet satisfying scratches from his stubble, the bitter taste of coffee in his mouth, the ping of the elevator indicating the doors were about to open. 

_Well, Shit!_

Jerking herself away from the solid body she had been unconcernedly climbing, she didn’t give herself any time at all to dwell on what happened. She just instinctively bent down to collect her scattered paperwork, as the elevator doors opened, and without a single glance back at Derek she hurried through the group of people waiting outside, but not before she heard him call out, “We’ll talk later?”

She really couldn’t deal with this right now.

**Harry's POV**

Harry’s morning had been pretty calm so far, or as calm as leading two high acuity departments could get. He’d gotten a shift change update from his staff, and addressed any immediate issues with them. Then he’d gone to his office, and made more inroads into the backlog of paperwork, which hadn’t been seen to, since his predecessor left. He’d gotten to meet Mer’s entire intern group, who all seemed competent, from the looks of them. 

Then he’d gathered all spare personnel for a department meeting, so he could get better acquainted with their most prolific case types, the most prevalent difficulties the departments faced, how were they were on staffing and inventory, and so on and so forth.

Harry was extremely glad at the amount of feedback he received from his staff, since it pointed to numerous inefficiencies that he would have to plan improvements for. One of the biggest being the amount of time between a patient’s arrival to their discharge. The most prominent delaying factors, according to his nurses, were waiting for radiology slots and then waiting again for imaging and lab results, before they could make a decision on treatment. Another was how long it took to gather all the information from the paramedics. All these factors might not seem that important, since other departments faced the same issues, but Harry knew how much each second mattered in emergency medicine. 

_I really need that meeting with Richard_ , thought Harry, and ask for an experienced administrative assistant, but those were long term problems. For the time being, he needed to put together a better staffing model for both the ER and Trauma units, and ensure the staff got additional training specifically designed for emergency and trauma situations. 

Presently however, Harry was standing at the nurse’s station, trying to find coverage for all the walk-ins that required minor medical interventions, hence his request to Bailey, but his efforts were derailed, when a call came in for an incoming rape victim.

He pulled out his cell, and called the Chief. “Hey Richard, we have a rape victim trauma case incoming and I really can’t afford to spare anyone right now. Do you have anyone on staff that can liaise with the police and family members?”

Hearing an affirmative, he hung up and moved out of the way, allowing the nurses and paramedics to transport the patient to Trauma Room 2 and start the transfer of information from the paramedics to our records. 

He turned at hearing his name and saw a woman in her forties with greying blonde hair, and a business like manner walking towards him. 

“Hi, I’m Patricia Murphy, Dr. Webber’s administrative assistant. He asked me to come down to assist you with something?”

He shook her hand and seeing Mer get out of the elevators, he tilted his head, silently directing her towards the new arrival, and turned back to Patricia.

“Walk with me,” he told her, before he too headed in Mer’s direction. “We just had a rape victim brought in, and I’m not sure how the hospital usually handles this, but I need someone to be our go between with any law enforcement and family that might show up.” He looked at her waiting for her response, and the minute she consented, he thanked her, and walked into the chaos that accompanied an emergency assessment.

“Twenty-five year-old female found down at the park, status post-trauma,” one of the nurses said, relaying the first responders’ data. “She came in with a GCS of 6, B.P. 80 over 60. The exam is significant for blunt head trauma; unequal breath sounds, right pupil dilated, and she’s ready for an x-ray.” 

Harry monitored the situation, but decided to stand back, and allow the first year intern to take the lead, but noticing her sight fixated on a familiar pair of shoes, he called out to her.

When she turned back to look at him, he asked, “How would you recommend we proceed, Dr. Grey?”

She took a second to process the information announced and said, “Get a C.T. and an x-ray, a portable monitor, and a ventilator, to start off with.”

Giving her a nod, he projected his voice over the cacophony, to confirm her orders and asked a nurse to call Neuro and Cardio for consults.

He had Mer walk out with him and asked, “Walk me through your assessment and recommendations.”

“Well her head trauma, and dilated right pupil, could mean an uncal herniation is compressing the third cranial nerve and possibly the rest of the brain stem, so we need a C.T. Her uneven breath sounds indicate a pneumothorax, so the ventilator. We don’t know how long she’ll remain stable and can’t proceed without imaging, so we needed a portable monitor to, well, monitor her vitals, and an x-ray is standard protocol.”

“I know I don’t need to say it, but good job.” That earned him a happy smile from his sister. “Now, I need you to go and book an OR for our patient.”

“She’s gonna spend a hell of a long time in recovery and rehab,” Shepherd commented from where he was working on the head wound.

“If she survives,” Burke replied darkly, as he patched up the woman’s perforated lung. 

“What is she, like 5'2”, a hundred pounds?” Shepherd inquired. “She’s still breathing after what this guy did to her?” Astonishment colored his voice. “If they catch the guy, they should castrate him.” 

_You just earned some points in my book, Shepherd_ , thought Harry as he tried to locate the cause of her stomach rupture, and sent out a thin but constant stream of his magic to boost their patient’s vital energies, something he’d gotten used to doing with most of his severe cases over the years. It didn’t just help his patients but also allowed Harry to keep exercising his magic to make sure it didn’t grow stagnant out here in the mundane world. 

He held out his hand to the scrub nurse to receive the surgical scissors he had requested.

“See how shredded her hands are?” Burke pointed out, nodding to her mangled finger tips covered in heavy gauze. “She tried to fight back.

“Tried to? Rape kit came back negative. She kicked his ass.” Harry provided in vicious approval, glad the repugnant pig hadn’t taken everything from her. He really couldn’t understand how someone could be so _vile_. Having lived through Voldemort and his Death Eaters he was perfectly aware there was evil in the world, but still, to see the result of such an act, made Harry’s magic boil in revulsion. It was taking a large portion of his mind to soothe the roiling force of nature. 

“ _So_ , we have a warrior among us, huh?” Burke called out, glancing around the room at the rest of the staff. 

“Allison,” Mer supplied softly, making all their heads turn towards her. “Her name is Allison.” 

“Allison,” Harry repeated, conceding to the respect Mer wanted to show the patient. He allowed the name to roll around the fount of worldly information stored in his subconscious mind, one of the perks of being Death’s Chosen. 

When he’d been twenty, he’d naively asked Death, “Why don’t I suddenly feel like I know everything?” Only to be told that no matter how advanced his brain’s activity level may be, even for a wizard, he was still just a puny human, and he’d end up like the Longbottoms, if he was consciously aware of the entire bank of knowledge at once.”

Well, that had been a humbling and sobering thought.

Getting a ‘hit’, he phrased, “From the French and German roots, meaning ‘of the nobility’.” His words had the effect of gaining everyone’s attention. “Noble Warrior, quite appropriate considering her fighter’s response, don’t you think?” He asked hypothetically.

“You seem to be well versed in your languages,” concluded Burke.

Harry briefly looked up at the Cardiothoracic surgeon standing across him. “A few. The boarding school I attended was big on languages as the student population was very diverse. Much of my knowledge however, lies in the dead languages.” What was left unsaid was, since the dead languages were the root of all current ones, it was of no small consequence. 

The others looked at him in interest, but Harry’s attention was on the foreign tissue his instrument had encountered. “I think I may have found the cause of the rupture.” Grabbing the forceps from Bokhee in a tight grip, Harry carefully pulled out the mass, and held it up for closer inspection. Upon realization, he said proudly, “You really are a ruthless fighter, aren’t you? Good on you!” he complimented, grinning broadly underneath his mask.

“Oh my God,” Mer gasped, staring at the sample in shock. “She bit it off.” 

“What are you talking about?” Burke questioned them both impatiently, peering closely at the young intern as the Trauma Head laughed at the proceedings. 

“She bit off,” Mer spit out, causing everyone to look over, trying to figure it out. “Hi-his penis,” she clarified, and Harry saw every other man in the room cringing, simultaneously. 

Harry saw Bokhee, the quiet but highly experienced scrub nurse, shaking her head at their antics, and sent her a teasing wink, getting amused wrinkled eyes in return, making him chuckle. 

Harry sent a second wink towards Mer, which didn’t go unnoticed by the aged scrub nurse, but he let it go for now. 

“If she can fight the infection, she’ll be fine,” Burke stated, looking through the glass at the nurses cleaning up after their surgery. 

“It all depends on if she wakes up or not in the next seventy-two hours.” Shepherd gauged.

“She’ll pull through, you don’t have to worry about that,” Harry said confidently, as already he could feel her life force building, slowly but surely. “She’s a fighter to her core. You don’t fight as hard as she did, just to quit when you’ve finally gained an edge.”

“You sound like you know a thing or two about that,” Shepherd said with a surprising level of insight. 

Harry looked up at them once he finished at the sink, and gave them a grin, instead of the answer they were probably expecting.

“Dr. Potter-Black,” came the accented voice of Bokhee from where she stood at the door, with a small cooler in her hand, and a groan left the Englishman’s mouth at what he already knew was about to happen. 

The diminutive woman handed it to him and explained, “Since you collected the sample, you have to maintain chain of custody until the police come to pick it up.”

He turned a pitiful look towards her and stated, “From the deepest depths of my heart, I hate you right now.”

She cackled. _Actually_ cackled at him, before she left. 

“Well, at least _someone_ is getting enjoyment out of this,” Harry turned back from glaring at the nurse, and caught sight of their clear amusements. They received another glare.

“The three of us should get drinks later. You can tell me your long stories of what makes two hotshot docs leave their lucrative posts and move to Seattle.” Burke invited, moving on from the moment of levity. His offer sounded a little out of practice to Harry, but this realization wasn’t that surprising to him though. As he’d told Mer, surgeons didn’t always have a lot of time for friends and family because of their busy schedules, especially the high profile ones.

Shepherd moved away from the sinks to grab a paper towel, and instead of accepting or declining the invite, he explained, “It's a short story actually. Your Chief of Surgery made me an offer I couldn't refuse.”

“Richard asked you to come?” Burke asked, looking thoroughly unprepared at the Neurosurgeon’s response.

“Yeah. Why?” asked Shepherd as he looked back from opening the door.

“Oh, nothing,” answered Burke, as if his earlier concern was of no import and watched Shepherd take his leave, before he silently looked towards Harry, as if asking, _and you?_

“Richard’s been trying to get me over here for years,” Harry shrugged throwing his paper towel in the bin, “and it was about time I moved closer to family, anyway,” he said, thinking of Bill and Fleur’s family down in California. They’d decided to move to the States themselves when Harry had first started his internship. Mostly, so Fleur could properly take over the day-to-day operations for Pev-Rell Innovations. 

It had been a wonderful boon for Harry, taking quite a load off him and freeing up more of his time so he could focus more on practicing medicine, though he still spent plenty of time in research and development. Most of his inspiration nowadays came from the problems he encountered out here in the real world, as opposed to being stuck inside a lab. 

“Well, I’ll see you around.”

Hearing, a still shocked, “You too,” from the other man, Harry left, taking the cooler of penis with him.

**Meredith’s POV**

Mer sat at a console, not in the best of moods, working on finishing her charting. George must have finished his own, since he came over to stand in the doorway and asked, “You ok?”

“Yeah...Allison's shoes,” she sighed. “The rape victim, Allison, her shoes. I have the same ones. In my locker. And I normally never wear them, because they're not comfortable, but today I did, and she was wearing the same shoes,” Mer knew she was rambling, but the thought had lodged in her head, and refused to leave, “and it's just...stupid, and I'm tired, and forget it.” She didn’t know why it mattered so much to her. So what if they were wearing the same shoes, but it did.

You know what you need?” asked George, holding her gaze and widening his eyes in emphasis, and Mer finally realized. 

“No! It's sick and twisted. We said last time was the last time.” She admitted that it felt good, and it was tempting to keep going back, but they really weren’t allowed and what if they got caught. She noticed George glance away in guilt and with shock and betrayal clear in her voice, she asked, “You've been doing it without me?”

“Nancy Reagan lied.” He coyly defended while continuing to give her an enticing look. “You can't just say no. Come on.”

“Do you know what would happen if anyone knew?”

“I'm doing it. You can come with me...or you can stay here, and be miserable.” He finalized as he rolled her chair backwards out of the room, making her snicker at this entire scenario.

Mer and George stood looking through a large glass window into the nursery, watching the newborn babies wiggle their little arms and legs. She’d been immersed in the sight for the past few minutes, allowing it to soothe her troubled mind, while George made faces and expressively baby talked at them. It really was hilarious, reminding her of how Harry and the other Weasley men were with any of their baby nieces and nephews. What was it about babies that turned even strong dangerous grown men into, well this. This was exactly what she’d needed after this morning.

With a quiet laugh at his silliness, she said, “You are such a woman,” which made George jerk up and look back at her in a self-conscious manner, but suddenly had to leave when he received an urgent page. 

Just as she was about to leave herself, she noticed one of the babies turning blue. Mer looked around for a Pediatric doctor or nurse for help, but not seeing anyone, she stepped into the room, and checked the little guy’s heart and lungs. Hearing a clear murmur, she was just looking over his medical chart, when the door opened, letting in a young, eastern Asian woman in magenta scrubs.

“What are you doing in here?” She asked Mer, accusingly.

“There were no tests ordered, and the baby has a murmur.”

“I know,” the other woman said with crossed arms, as if the surgical intern wasn’t very bright.

“He turned blue.”

“You're surgery, you're not authorized to be in here. Do you know how much trouble you can get into for this?” she questioned Mer, leaving her earlier comment unaddressed.

Mer decided to stick firmly on this matter. “Are you going to do any tests?”

“It's a benign systolic ejection murmur. It goes away with age,” the Asian woman replied with complete certainty.

“So you're not going to do any tests,” she stated in reaffirmation.

“He's not your patient, he's not even on your service,” she told Mer, starting to sound frustrated with the surgical interloper.

“Are you sure it's benign?” Mer just couldn’t seem to let it go.

“I'm a doctor too, you know. You should get out of here.” The Pediatric intern said with finality, opening the nursery’s door in a silent demand for Mer to leave.

**Izzie’s POV**

Sitting on a stool in ‘The Pit’, Izzie decided she was not having a good morning. After her embarrassing introduction with the absolutely _delicious_ , Dr. Potter-Black, the day seemed to get progressively worse. Sure, it was better than rectal exams, but she’d done so many sutures, her fingers were starting to lose sensation. 

She just wanted a little bit of time in the OR, was that too much to ask? She’d thought being in ‘The Pit’ meant at least one patient might need surgery, but no, she’d been dealing with bumps, bruises, and stupid people making questionable choices. 

What took the prize, however, was the woman currently sitting on a gurney, a Mrs. Lu, giving Izzie soulful looks. She’d arrived hours ago with a huge cut on her forearm, didn’t speak even a hint of English, and for some reason, wouldn’t allow Izzie to stitch her up. The light-blonde intern, had tried to get an interpreter, had even called out to the whole room, to see if anyone in the ER spoke Chinese, but no such luck.

Running out of options, Izzie had paged Cristina who was just now bursting through the doors. “Do you have a case?” she asked looking around the room hopefully.

“No,” Izzie stated, gesturing toward Ms. Lu with a frown, “ _her_. She won’t let me sew her up. I wouldn't have called you, but I can't get a hold of a translator. Can you just ask her what's wrong?” Cristina looked between the patient and then back at Izzie with a blank expression. 

“No.” Her succinct rejection caused Izzie’s shoulders to slump further, and she resisted the urge to drop her face into her palms in defeat. 

“Why not?”

“Because I grew up in Beverly Hills,” Cristina replied shortly, “the only Chinese I know is from a Mr. Chou’s menu. Plus, I’m Korean.” With that she left. _Oh_! Izzie pursed her lips and stared at Mrs. Lu in dejection. She wanted to help the woman, she really did, but didn’t know how. 

“Dr. Stevens?” Izzie startled at hearing the unmistakable accented voice behind her. 

“D-Dr. Potter-Black,” the blonde stuttered out, feeling her cheeks get warm.

“Is there a reason, you’re sitting here looking as if someone killed your pet?”

“Oh, I can't find a translator to come down here, and Mrs. Lu won’t let me fix her arm.” She explained, getting up to follow the senior doctor, as he made his way towards the indicated woman. He had a cooler in his hand, and she momentarily wondered what that was about. “She keeps repeating the same thing to me, I think, but I don’t understand, and I don’t know what else to do” 

“It’s alright Dr. Stevens, it sounds as if you tried what you could,” he said, offhandedly, as he placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. Izzie couldn’t help but raise a flustered hand to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, while looking up at her superior through her eyelashes. 

The senior attending peered at the Chinese patient with a look of concentration, as if the gears in his brain were turning. 

Finally, he indicated to the folder in Izzie’s hand, and took a quick glance at the Chinese characters filling Mrs. Lu’s intake form. “Dr. Stevens, for future reference, if the danger isn’t imminent, it’s a good idea to hold off treatment until you understand the patient’s information, and they can understand you.” Indicating the chart he emphasized his advice with, “from Mrs. Lu’s information, can you be certain that she doesn’t have any pre-existing conditions, allergies, or currently taking medications that might be counterproductive to your treatment?”

At Izzie’s, “No,” he nodded and turned towards one of the nurses by the station.

“Rebecca?” A pretty middle aged, caramel haired, Latina, stood up, and made her way over, a friendly smile on her face.

“How can I help you, Doctor?” 

“Could you please have someone contact the Interpreter’s Office, and find out the cause of the hold up?” His authoritative yet professional tone of voice made Izzie’s stomach flutter in attraction. 

“Would you still like them to send someone down?” the nurse asked, with a quick worried glance towards their patient. 

He smiled pleasantly back at her concern, and soothed, “No just find out for now, I’ve got this one.” Izzie noted that his answer was just as surprising to the nurse, as herself. After the Latina left with a polite nod, the senior surgeon mentioned, “Rebecca is a wonderful team leader, with years of experience. She could be a great resource through your residency, Dr. Stevens.” 

Izzie smiled at him and once again fidgeted nervously at her bangs, at having his attention directed solely at her, “Yes sir, I mean Dr.” she quickly corrected, thinking back on his response to Bailey.

As they reached Mrs. Lu and she saw a new face, the slight woman tried again to communicate. “Wǒ de nǚ'ér zài wàimiàn, tā de tóu zài liúxuè. Wǒ xiǎng bāngzhù tā, dàn bùnéng. (My daughter is outside and her head is bleeding. I want to help her but can not)”

Whatever she said, made Dr. Potter-Black pause slightly, before he sat down on a rolling stool, by the woman’s side, placing the cooler by his feet, and shocked Izzie, when he said, “Nǐ hǎo, wǒ jiào Hālǐsēn Bōtè-Bùláikè, wǒ shì yī míng yīshēng. Bàoqiàn, āyí huāle zhème cháng shíjiān lái bāngzhù nín. Nǐ nǚ'ér xǐngzhe shuōhuà ma? (Hello, my name is Harrison Potter-Black, I am a doctor. I am sorry it took so long for someone to help you, aunt. Is your daughter awake and speaking?)”

Izzie was completely taken aback by his smoothly spoken Chinese sounding just like a true native’s and found herself leaning closer to the man in interest. _Damn! That’s sexy as all get out._ She also observed some of the other staff members sending subtle yet curious glances towards their department leader.

“Shì de, tā zài wàimiàn děng. Gōngzuò zhōng de yī tái jīqì shuāi xiàlái, gē shāngle tóu (Yes, she is waiting outside. A machine at work fell and cut her head),” the woman said more enthusiastically than before, her gestures were also much more open as she allowed the doctor to examine her arm.

Clearly satisfied that the wound was stable for now, he asked, “Tā wèishéme bù jìnlái (Why did she not come inside)?”

Whatever he asked, made the woman glance around nervously, before she dropped her voice to reply, “Tā bùnéng jìnlái, wǒmen pà tā huì rù yù (She can not come in, we are scared she will go to jail),” at his inquiring look, she went on to say, “Wǒ yǒu lǜkǎ, tā méiyǒu (I have a green card, she does not).”

He nodded at her, asked for a new intake form, and spent the next few minutes filling out a new one for her in English, making sure to fill in all the blanks. Then with a few more words in Chinese, he handed the chart to Izzie, and instructed, “Mrs. Lu has consented for treatment. Take her for an x-ray, and suture her laceration.”

“Why wouldn’t she let me treat her before,” Izzie asked with curiosity. 

“She was trying to convince someone to go look at her daughter’s head wound outside,” and at seeing her confusion, added, “she’s not legal, and they’re worried about her being deported. I’ll go see to the daughter while you take care of her arm.” Finished giving his orders, Dr. Potter-Black picked up his cooler, and went to take care of the rest.

Now, she was really starting to wonder what was in there.

**Harry’s POV**

After speaking to his lead nurse, Rebecca, he added another think to the steady growing list of things he needed to bring up with Richard. He looked up, hoping for whatever entities existed, to grant him patience. Apparently, the hospital only had one Chinese interpreter on staff and they were currently with another patient being prepped for surgery. Additionally, they only had patient forms in Spanish. Harry was trying extremely hard not to bang his head against a wall.

He was currently waiting on Mindy, one of their techs, to gather supplies for him to go check on their patient’s daughter outside. He turned his focus on Rebecca when he saw her sidle up to stand by his side.

“So… you speak Chinese very fluently,” she said, and Harry wondered if it was supposed to be a statement, question or a combination of both. He noticed some of the others unobtrusively tracking their conversations, and he did an internal eye roll at what unapologetic gossips hospital staff could be. He’d learned to ignore and live with it over the years, truly.

“It’s mostly from my various stints with the U.N. and Red Cross,” he explained, hoping to pass it off blasély. Like with Burke in the OR, he couldn’t exactly admit to this, along with his abilities to see bonds, being part and parcel of his Deathly abilities. 

“Hmm, I’ve heard mentions that you have a talent for languages, and is that the penis?” _Yup, gossip._

“I’m good at picking up languages. Which reminds me, the office should probably be aware that I’m certified in several languages to act as a medical interpreter, it came in handy while I was in the field. So next time something like this occurs, let me know.”

Rebecca gave him an impressed look, nodded at the information, and kept staring at him, until he broke down and sighed, “Yes, this is the penis. Why do people find that so fascinating?” 

“Because it’s a penis, Dr. Potter-Black,” interrupted Mindy, a petite brunette with youthful hazel eyes, as she arrived with the supplies, but instead of grabbing them from her, he once again picked up the cooler, and had her tag along for assistance. 

“Um, where is she?” asked the tech, not seeing anyone once they arrived outside.

Tapping into another one of his ‘abilities’, this one to sense vital energies, he located someone hiding among the dumpsters, and informed Mindy he thought he saw something there.

“Ahn?” he called out, addressing her as her mother had informed him. On hearing the sound of shuffling, he approached slowly so as not to frighten her, and saw the gruesome cut on her forehead. 

The young girl was looking at them nervously, and hunched more into herself. Harry kneeled down to her position in order to seem less intimidating, and allowed a bit of his magic to radiate out. It was a technique he often used during his time volunteering abroad, where people were more prone to being wary of strangers and authority figures. 

“Lu Ahn, wǒ jiào Bōtè-Bùláikè yīshēng. Nín de mǔqīn xiànzài zhèngzài jiēshòu shǒubì zhìliáo, tā yīzhí fēicháng dānxīn nín. Wǒ kěyǐ kàn kàn nǐ de shāngkǒu ma (Lu Ahn, my name is Doctor Potter-Black. Your mother is getting her arm treated right now, and she has been very worried about you. May I look at your wound)?” 

At her acquiescence, he moved forward to take a closer look, and knew right away that she needed a CT scan at the very least and told her so. Along with being scared, the girl was shivering from sitting in the Seattle rain for who knows how long. 

“No, please, I no go inside, I be sent to jail, my mother be left all alone. Please, you make bleeding stop here?” she asked in broken, accented English.

Despite the sympathy he felt for her plight, he couldn’t agree to her request. He not only had to think of what was best for her, but also the ethics of his position. Clenching his teeth in frustration, he tried one last time. 

Keeping his tone as even and soothing as possible, he layed out all the facts for her. He reassured her hospitals neither cared about the legal status of their patients, nor were they legally allowed to give that information away. He bluntly informed her if he stitched her now, they had no way of knowing if she might die from complications in a week, or a few hours, leaving her mother to remain in the country all alone. Fortunately, slowly but surely, she came around. 

Harry smiled at her in encouragement as he picked up his cooler, and guided her inside. He made a note to let the staff know that he would stitch her up himself. He had a thing against obscene scars on foreheads.

**Meredith’s POV**

Mer was currently sitting by the glass wall in the main lobby, looking out at the hospital’s main entrance, and eating her lunch. It was peaceful here, as if everyone was hesitant to speak too loudly, treating this area like the hallowed halls of an institution. She liked it.

“What're you doing down here?” Cristina asked, seeing her as she came in from outside.

“Just needed a quiet place. It’s been hectic in the Trauma Unit, and I’ve been trying to convince Burke to do a consult on this Peds baby. What about you?

“Hiding from Alex,” At seeing Mer’s look of, ‘who?’, she explained, “that intern that called you a nurse, yeah, he just got transferred to our team, and Bailey’s had him shadowing me all day.”

They both had a moment of silence to commiserate at the new addition.

“I kissed Derek,” she blurted. She’d wanted to release it all day, and not have to keep this big roiling secret inside. 

“You kissed Derek,” the Asian intern blandly repeated.

“In the elevator.”

“Oh, you kissed him in the elevator,” she repeated again with an emotionless face.

“I was having a bad day. I _am_ having a bad day,” Mer clarified, hoping that explained her questionable decision making skills.

“Oh, so this is what you do on your bad days. Make out with Dr. McDreamy, and apparently you know McYummy too.” She mildly accused, moving over to lean against the wall and cross her arms, to give Mer, ‘the look’. The one that meant, ‘out with it’.

She was slightly taken aback that their relationship, didn’t even remain secret through two whole shifts. Trying to avoid the inevitable a bit longer, she asked, “ McDreamy, I get, but McYummy?” Actually she got that too, knowing as much about Harry as she did, but her brain wanted her to stall.

“Oh come on, I know you know he’s one damn tempting example of the male species,” Cris said, leering at Mer. “From what I’ve seen and heard of him, he’s seriously good looking, has the most intensely assessing eyes I’ve ever come across, even I have to admit it’s pretty heady. Oh, let’s not forget that accent, and that way he has of effortlessly drawing the focus of everyone in the room, God I wish I could do that. Plus, he’s competent, successful, certifiably a genius, extremely educated, looks like he could hold his own, sexy to the point of being drool-worthy, and I don’t know, he just has this thing, this presence about him. So, I don’t know, Yummy seemed to fit.” She added a shrug at the finish as if that would explain the rest, and in a weird way, it did.

“Huh, I see you’ve put _a lot_ of thought into this,” teased Mer.

“Yeah, no. Spill!” Unfortunately, Cristina was undeterred from the original issue.

“Well, it’s not really that big a deal. High profile mother, absent parent, clashing personalities; Harry found me crying in a closet, when I was eighteen, and he sort of took me under his wing, and sort of maybe unofficially adopted me,” she mumbled at the end.

“So you’re, what, family?”

Mer couldn’t stop the smile from blossoming on her face, “Yeah. Family.”

“Mmm. George said Alison was wearing your shoes,” Cristina said, doing a complete one-eighty, but that’s what she liked about this woman. She knew when to push and when to give her space, and they’d only known each other for a week.

“Yeah. It's weird, right?” Mer’s obsession with wearing the same shoes as the rape victim was confusing, even to herself.

“It's weird that you care,” Cristina commented, while stealing one of Mer’s chips.

“I think it's weird,” Mer repeated just voicing her thoughts.

Just then their attention was drawn outside as they heard a car swerve and, looking through the glass, they saw a man stagger out of his car. His clothes were soaked in blood, focused mainly around his crotch. 

~.~

“I saw Alison, you can't believe the beating that she took. And then to see this…,” Mer whispered to Cristina, as they both stood to the side watching Harry and Bailey operating on the rapist. 

“It's like that old saying, you should see the other guy.” Cristina darkly returned.

“Why are we not attempting to reattach the severed penis?” Harry asked, in full teaching mode.

“Teeth don't slice, they tear, you can only reattach with a clean cut. If she wanted to slice him off with a knife…,” Cristina trailed off as she answered the attending’s question.

“Besides, the digestive juices didn't leave much of the flesh to work with,” Mer contributed. 

"Right, so what do we do?” this time from Bailey. 

“Sew him up minus a large part of the family jewels.” The Asian intern’s tone didn’t hold an ounce of sympathy.

“And his outlook?” Bailey asked as Harry fully concentrated on suturing the man’s torn penis.

“He'll be urinating out of a bag for a very, very long time,” answered Mer.

“Not to mention he'll never be able to have sex again,” this from Cristina.

“Oh, too bad.” “Shame.” Stated Mer and Cristina unsympathetically, feeling like they were the ‘peanut gallery’.

“Let's all take a moment to grieve. Clamp.” Harry stated apathetically, glaring down at the man with zero pity in his eyes.

**Callie’s POV**

Calliope ‘Callie’ Torres was a fourth year resident at Seattle Grace Hospital, and a third year resident specializing in Orthopedic Surgery. She was also one of two daughters from an old affluent wizarding family from Florida. Magicals being the way they were, Callie had always come across a bit eccentric, as if she was always marching to her own drums. She was a thick but toned, beautiful Latina, and she owned it, and didn’t take shit from anyone. 

Callie was currently on her way down to ‘The Pit’ for an Ortho consult. Dr. Harrison Potter-Black had called and requested her, personally. Well, not her exactly, just any Ortho surgeon, but so not the point. The point was however that she was going to meet one of the biggest names in modern wizarding history. He was pretty much likened to the modern day Merlin. 

What Callie was most enthusiastic about though, was meeting another magical who came from a family just as traditional as hers but still chose to practice mundane medicine. Also, the way his family’s company, Pev-Rell Innovations, kept finding unobtrusive ways to combine the magical and mundane to make medical advancements beneficial to both worlds, was mind-blowing to her. She couldn’t wait to meet him, this was going to be insane. Now, if only she could keep from tripping down the stairwell in her excitement.

Making it into the OR, she spotted him right away next to a patient’s bed, and started feeling jittery. As if he sensed her arrival, his gaze circled the room and landed on her. Once she walked over, she only had to take one look into his hypnotic eyes to realize he knew she was magical, which shocked Callie because no where had it ever been mentioned he had the ability to sense magic. _And, Holy crap! Can everyone in the room please pause in appreciation at this mouthwatering piece of Man Candy!_

“Hi, I’m Calliope Torres, Callie for short, I’m here for the Ortho consult,” she introduced herself with a giddy smile.

“Harrison Potter-Black, pleasure to meet you, and please, just get it out now,” he joked with an indulgent smile.

Taking the offer, but keeping in mind their environment, she whispered, “Oh My God! I seriously can’t believe this is happening. You’re Harry Potter, like _the_ Harry Potter. I mean, Wow!” Then leaning a bit closer, she asked, “Is it true, are you really as great as they say?”

With his captivating crystalline irises dancing with mirth, he intimated, “How would I know, I haven’t heard what they’ve been saying about me.”

“I can relate,” she said thoughtfully, earning a quizzing look from him. “I’m not sure either, what all my family’s been saying about me. The rumors are rife with my supposed antics.”

“Funny,” he commented, smirking in humor. 

~.~

They’d just finished resetting the femur of a Mr. Carbuncle’s, and wasn’t that an unfortunate name. Or as Dr. McAlpha, the moniker which had already started making the gossip rounds, had said, “Poor sod.” 

Callie was pleasantly surprised the more she got to know about this man. He was powerful, that much was obvious by the pressure of his dense aura, and tightly controlled magic shining through his eyes, but more importantly in Callie’s books, he was just good people. Down to earth, inviting personality, respectful, had enough of his own confidence he didn’t disparage others to raise his own, knew how to laugh at himself, and he cared. Genuinely cared for each and every one of his patients. 

_Definitely my new role model._

Saying her goodbyes to the Doctor, and some of the other staff she’d worked with today, she turned to leave when she saw the cooler sitting on the nurse station counter. 

“Is that what I think it is?” she asked ‘Harrison’ while pointing towards the red top container. Really wanting a look, she blurted, “Dude, can I see your penis?” 

It felt like the entire room stopped breathing and looked at her. She could already envision her mom’s voice saying, “Calliope Iphegenia! You did _not_ just say that!’

Callie tilted her head, to hide her face from a second, before turning back to fix this. “Ahem, well, ah, no need to say that, _that_ is not how it was supposed to sound,” she said slowly and carefully. 

The others were still frozen, eyes shifting between the two as if they were watching a tennis match, waiting for a reaction.

He broke out in open mouthed laughter, eyes tearing a little. 

_What_ _a jackass!_

Straightening back up, he shook off the rest of his, ahem, ‘manly giggles’, and smirked.

_I think I just found my new best friend._

“Go ahead. Just don’t touch it, that would be indecent,” he said impassively.

_I think I’m in love._

**Preston’s POV**

Preston Burke, had always been a man with a plan. He’d graduated first in his class at John Hopkins; pursued a fellowship in Cardiothoracic surgery, one of the highest profile surgical fields; and became the Head of CT at SGH by thirty-six. The next step in his plan was to take over as Chief of Surgery once Richard Webber retired, but that plan had just been placed in danger. 

He’d been so confident in his position that Shepherd and Potter-Black’s answers had shocked him to his core. While Shepherd had outright admitted the Chief had lured him here with the promise of becoming Chief, Potter-Black had mentioned family, but Preston wasn’t fooled. A surgeon as young and celebrated as he would need a big enough reason to leave a place like Mayo Clinic. 

Worse yet, when he’d confronted the Chief, the man pretty much told him he thought Burke had stagnated, that despite all he’d done to get where he was, he’d grown complacent, and only did as much as needed, but never step more. That had chaffed deeply, but was he right? Did he no longer have the ambition to help others through his skills? 

Even Miranda Bailey, one of their program’s most forthright residents, had told him in the most frankest of terms he had a God complex, was cocky, arrogant, bossy, pushy, and self absorbed. Was that really what he had become? Was that how people saw him? 

Despite this setback, and that was exactly what this was, Preston had to keep moving forward. He’d never been the most brilliant, but he’d always been the most persistent, and he was not about to give up now. 

So he’d followed up on Grey’s consult request, after repeatedly blowing her off. He’d never liked poaching patients from other services, he’d always thought it to be underhanded, but her request had been an honest concern for a patient, whose possibly fatal condition might be being overlooked, and she’d been right.

So here he was, operating on a baby with a murmur. Grey stood off to the side, observing the procedure. She deserved it honestly, for all the effort she put into helping this baby. When had he stopped doing that? When had it stopped mattering to him?

Burkes were not quitters, and neither was Preston. He would be better. He would earn the right to be Chief again.

**Derek’s POV**

“How is she?” a quiet voice asked, momentarily startling the Neurosurgeon out of his thoughts. Derek looked from their Allison to Meredith, his eyes lingering for a split-second on the intern before turning back to the chart in his hand.

“No change.” Shepherd replied simply, not having much to elaborate on as he continued to flip through the chart. He couldn’t bring himself to look at Meredith, not without imagining her in Allison’s position instead. Each time he did, a tight ball of dread coiled in the pit of his stomach, pushing all other emotions to the side. He wanted to cherish that fluttery feeling he got when he looked at or even thought about the intern. The way his heart beat faster with every stolen glance, as if he was back in high school experiencing the bloom of his first crush. He hadn’t felt like this in a long, long time. Nervous, infatuated, giddy, flirtatious, spontaneous...

“Have you been here all night?” 

Derek hummed. “Yup. You know I have four sisters? Very girly, tons of kids.” he said quietly, “If I was in a coma, they'd all be here. I'd want them here. Having no one? Can't imagine that.” After his father’s death, he’d never really been alone. There was always one of his sisters around, mainly Amy as Derek was the closest to her despite their seven-year age gap. 

“I can’t either. I probably wouldn’t be surrounded by as many as you, but I have at least one.” Popping a chip into his mouth, Derek finally looked up at the intern. 

“Your mother, right. She'd be in here ordering all the surgeons around.” Derek voiced with certainty, as he slowly rose from his seat to wash his hands. “She'd fly these cowboys in from Prague to do these amazing medical procedures.” 

“That’s true, I do have my mother.” Derek noticed a hidden undercurrent to her answer, but wasn’t sure what it could be.

Glancing around the hallway, the surgeon sidled up beside Meredith and leaned against the glass with a small smirk, his mood taking a much more flirtatious turn. 

Crossing his arms over his chest, he asked, “So, we’re kissing but not dating?” Meredith turned her head to look at the Neurosurgeon and he could see an almost imperceptible smile pulling at her lips. 

“I knew that was going to come up.” 

“Don't get me wrong,” He started with a teasing grin, the easy-going attitude replacing his dark thoughts from earlier, “I like the kissing. I'm all for the kissing. More kissing, I say,” his smirk getting wider the longer he spoke.

“I have no idea what that was about.” Derek’s smirk faltered for a moment, at her denial, but he could be stubborn, if that’s how she wanted to play it.

“Is it going to happen again? Because if so, I need to bring breath mints, maybe put a condom in my wallet,” he teased gently, his tone low as he leaned a bit closer.

“Shut up, now,” Meredith rolled her eyes while Derek chuckled and turned back to study Allison through the glass.

“There was this baby up in the nursery. He's brand new. No one's neglected him or damaged him yet. How do we get from there to here? She's wearing my shoes and someone's beat the crap out of her, and she's got nobody.” Derek studied Meredith silently and was overwhelmed by a need to pull the dark-blonde into his arms, to chase her pain away and replace it with... _whatever_ the hell he felt for her. Unfortunately, he realized he had a lonely and confused patient to take care of, one who was in the process of waking up. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Episode: Winning a Battle, Losing the War (S01E03)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> According to Mer, “We live out our lives on the surgical unit, seven days a week, fourteen hours a day. We’re together more than we’re apart. After a while, the ways of residency become the ways of life. Number 1: Always keep score. Number 2: Do whatever you can to outsmart the other guy. Number 3: Don’t make friends with the enemy. Oh, and yeah, Number 4: Everything, everything is a competition.” That’s usually how it feels in the beginning, but how do I tell her in a way she might actually believe, there’s another way to thrive, a way you have to realize yourself. Number 5: It’s not about the race at all, it’s not about getting the coolest patient, or having the most surgeries under your belt. Victories are counted by the number of lives saved. And if you’re smart you learn to not lose yourself in the competition.

**Harry’s POV**

Harry took a leisurely sip from the cup in his hand, breathing in the peaceful atmosphere pervading his new sitting room. He was currently standing by the bay of windows watching the calm waters of Lake Washington and basking in the gentle warmth of the early morning sunlight as it shone into the room, refracting off the original gold-painted ceiling, giving the room an ethereal quality. Harry had to admit, he hadn’t felt this content since Teddy’s summer visit this past June, and couldn’t help but smile at the thought of his son’s and the rest of the family’s reactions at seeing his new home. 

The house was an original Victorian in the Seattle Queen Anne area, about a twenty-minute drive from Seattle Grace. The outside was a burnt salmon color with window accents in dark sage, with a few turrets, and a cedar shake roof. It’s overall appearance was a perfect mix of both the Burrow and Hogwarts, the first two places he’d ever thought of as home, and he had fallen in love with the structure at first sight. So how could he have ever said no? 

The house had three levels, six bedrooms, five and a half bathrooms, a formal sitting room, a more casual living room, formal dining room, and kitchen. The backyard consisted of a back patio with a hot tub, a lap pool, and even a cabana. There were also a few rooms in the basement that he was already making plans for, and all together it was perfect since he could already envision all the family get-togethers here, filling this house with boisterous laughter, and building countless memories. He could see it becoming a home. 

His favorite room, though, was the master bedroom, which was coincidentally decorated in Slytherin green wallpaper with Gryffindor red window treatments, along with a sweeping view of the Lake and Cascades. Harry felt a combination of childish glee and humility at being greeted by the majestic view every morning. Because while it was stunning, it also served to remind him there was something greater at work out there, something which had existed for eons and would continue to do so long after the human race, and among all its splendor, he was just a small speck. 

Instead of deterring him however, the prospective furthered his motivations to leave a lasting mark on this world, so when he finally reconnected with his ancestors in the afterlife, he could do so with the sense that he had made all their sacrifices worthwhile. He wanted to look at his parents, his grandparents, Sirius, Remus, the friends he lost through the course of both wars, and Fred in the eyes without an ounce of hesitation, and let them know with absolute confidence that he’d made something of the life they’d fought and died for. 

A moaning yawn from the room’s open-arched entrance shattered his contemplative tranquility, triggering an unbidden moment of uncertainty for him as it brought back to mind what he’d been trying to distract himself from, all morning. Pushing past his worry, he glanced back to see a sleepy Callie standing there with her hair resembling a bird’s nest, and despite the conclusion of last evening, he couldn’t entirely stop his admiring gaze from taking in her sleep tousled allure. Though he did try to be gentlemanly discrete about it, in respect of the hard work Andy and Alice had put into polishing up his manners, but Merlin, it was a difficult endeavor with how breathtaking an image the fiesty Latina presented. 

“Looking good,” he teased in good humor, giving her an exaggerated leer and not even trying to hide the sarcastic smirk supporting his lips. He hoped starting the morning with levity might help to stave off any lingering awkwardness, not that there should be a cause for any since they’d both come to the unanimous agreement to just remain friends. Still, events had been known to appear differently in the light of day. 

“Jackass,” she moaned, apparently still hungover, but otherwise not showing any outward signs of hesitation, much to Harry’s pleasant relief. “Why did you let me do this to myself?”

Harry chuckled as he sauntered over to her to lean against the entrance.

Over the past week Callie and he had gotten on like a house on fire and were on their way to becoming great friends, and though they’d both felt the stirrings of mutual attraction from the get go, Harry had chosen to keep it strictly platonic. Harry lived by a code, which due to past experiences, luckily not his own, included never dating a subordinate. That way lay murky waters, and he liked to avoid drama whenever possible. He’d had enough of that growing up, thank you very much, and had no inclination to continue the rest of his life in a similar vein. 

As Andromeda liked to tell him often, he had no patience or talent for social intricacies. Still, how to tell his long time social coach on everything Lordly and ‘proper’ and the beloved grandmother of his son, it wasn’t his lack of talent, because he could if he wanted, so much as his refusal to waste his time on drama, when he had more productive ways to spend his time.

Yet Callie had blown in brazenly like a breath of fresh air, and despite his personal resolutions, he’d found himself being uncharacteristically drawn in. How could he not be, with how tempting he found the Latina? Callie was uniquely beautiful, carried herself with effortless confidence, and was as fiery as the deepest layer of Hell, everything he’d ever found attractive in a lover. He’d struggled with it for the past few days and had to make considerable use of his occlumency to refrain himself from acting on his interest, which had been going really well, until last night that is. 

When Callie had discovered her fellow magical had moved into his new house, the woman had demanded to see it, decided he needed to have a housewarming party, and had invited herself over for a night of revelry. It had started with a tour of the house and the backyard, where she’d especially been impressed by the pool in the back and the shielded and reinforced dueling chamber with interactive Hitwizard training dummies. Upon her inquiry, he’d admitted that like Quidditch, he didn’t get as much time to practice as he did during his time as an Auror and later a Hitwizard, but he liked to keep up his skills with a few intense sessions every other week or so. 

His dueling skills may have been born from necessity, but they were something Harry had worked his ass off to develop and excel at. Much to his discomfort, they were revered by the majority of magical enclaves even thirteen years after his departure from Britain’s Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and continued to receive requests from various governments and schools around the world for him to give Defense Against the Dark Arts and dueling seminars. While he wasn’t able to give his time to every invitation, he did do one or two a year, with his latest being with the Auror department in Washington DC, just four months ago. 

Harry could proudly say, without the least bit of boasting of course, he was still able to kick all their asses into gear. At the very least, making use of his dueling chamber offered an excellent way to work off the tension which occurred with being a surgeon. 

His calm professionalism at work on the other hand, was just that, professionalism. It was part and parcel of the customs and comportment teachings Harry had reluctantly submitted to, and which were beaten into his brain by Andromeda, who was later joined by Narcissa, after he took up the Potter and Black Lordships and became the patriarch of both families. 

The sense of responsibility and level of professional conduct expected from a surgeon, especially one in a leadership role, however, had been learned at the hands of Ellis Grey. He may resent her for her behavior towards Mer, but he would never criticize her abilities as a brilliant surgeon and teacher, and he was truly honored to have learned from her. 

It was a topic Callie had asked about afterward when they had finished the tour and settled themselves in front of the living room fireplace with a bottle of Firewhisky, commandeered from his bar by the Orthopedic resident. 

They’d started with a relaxed sharing of their past escapades, covering their magical schooling, and their experiences with med schools and residencies, finding humor in each other’s antics. Harry had nostalgically narrated a few of his more mundane adventures with Hermione and Ron, not delving into the darker side of their ‘adventures’ just yet. That led them into pointing out the blunders of some of the well known magical figures, especially in relation to their interactions with the mundane world. Prominently discussed was the Americans’ impression of Dumbledore, which, while not too bad, was definitely less rose-colored as the British citizens’, something which had originally surprised Harry when he’d first moved across the Pond, but had later come to agree with. 

Callie had then followed that by drunkenly narrating the latest gossip around the hospital, much to his fond exasperation. As the night had worn on with the Firewhisky and laughter flowing freely, Harry had found himself entranced by her ease with herself, her complete abandon of inhibitions as she bared her past and her love for her family back in Florida. At one point, he had smiled at seeing her giggling drunkenly, watched the warm light of the fire dancing over her ebony curls. It enticed him to just give in and reach across the last few inches left between them from their bodies having slowly drawn closer through the evening, and thread his fingers into the wild strands. 

The last of his hesitations had crumbled away when she’d gazed at him through her sooty lashes, and they allowed their lips to meet in a lazy and sensual kiss. Even though this moment had been building between them since their first meeting in ‘the Pit’, something felt distinctly off. Where the kiss had started off with passionate anticipation, it gradually started to become more mechanical the longer it went on until they finally pulled apart and looked at each other in confused contemplation. 

“Hmm,” Callie hummed while biting the inside of her lip, looking as if she was trying to figure out a problem. Harry had watched on in his own drunken confusion as Callie had pursed her pouty lips in distaste, and finally met his eyes, looking as if she had reached a conclusion. “This sucks!” Harry hadn’t been able to help but let his head fall back onto the couch cushion, laughing at their absurd situation. 

“How can you laugh? Do you know how long I’ve been looking forward to that?” she had whined in frustration before starting to whack Harry with a pillow when he just laughed harder. “Damn it, Harry! I am horny and angry and stop laughing, this is all your fault.”

After pushing the pillow away, Harry had to use all his resolve to not break down again at her face resembling an angry chipmunk. He was pretty sure she would’ve pushed him out of his own window if he had. 

“You think you’re disappointed?” he had pointed out sarcastically as he’d glanced down at the situation in his pants, before sighing disheartenedly because honestly, it had been too many years since he’d last found himself drawn to another person enough to start a relationship with. Despite his original decision to avoid any romantic entanglements at work, he had found himself a little disappointed at the lack of physical chemistry between Callie and him. 

“Urgggh, this is so unfair, you’re hot, and I’m hot, and we’re hot for each other, but where are the fireworks!” Her muffled voice came out from where she’d smashed her face into the pillow on the floor. He would have continued to watch on, except the incessant discomfort from down under had done a great job at sobering him up. 

“Uh, I’m going to head upstairs, and uh, yeah.” He hadn’t even finished the sentence before her head had shot up from the pillow wearing a look of expectation.

“Ooh, can I watch,” she’d impishly asked, forcing Harry to look at her in mock horror as he tried to figure out if she was teasing or, Merlin forbid, actually serious.

“No,” he’d replied with a chuckle while mock-glaring at her insatiable antics. “But, you can have one of the bedrooms upstairs,” he’d smirked down at her frowning expression, “and you know where the towels are, so I’ll see you in the morning, Calliope,” he’d lightly informed her before heading upstairs for the night and to, ahem, take care of his problem.

He shook himself out of his reminiscing to hear Callie amidst her ongoing mumbling rant about unfairness and something about good looking British bastards, at which Harry wisely decided to keep his mouth shut. 

“I see you didn’t make it upstairs,” he noted conversationally as he conjured her a cup of coffee with a twirling flair of his left hand, bringing her complaining to a stop. 

“Wow!” She exclaimed, reaching out for the cup carefully to examine the feel of it and smell the authenticity of the coffee before taking a hesitant sip. “Oh,” she breathed out her surprise before looking back at him, then lowered her gaze to his hand and whispered, “You can do wandless magic?” To this, Harry just gave her a mischievous tilt of his head before bringing his index finger to his lips.

Rapidly nodding her head at the motion, she quietly squealed, “That is so cool,” reminding Harry of Teddy’s awed reactions when he used to entertain his then baby godson with small flares of wandless magic. As reluctant as he was to push away this welcome distraction from last night’s events, he had something he needed to say. 

“Callie,” he called out to gain her attention. “I don’t believe in leaving things unsaid, and while yes, I’m disappointed things didn’t work out as we’d hoped, I still think you’re beautiful, funny, honest, and,” he paused to look at her to make sure she understood his sincerity, “I would be honored to have someone like you as a friend.” Having said his piece, he held his breath awaiting her response, because even if they couldn’t be lovers, the vibrant and strong bonds between them told him he needed her in his life, even if just as a friend. 

Her response, of course, was entirely Callie-esque in its level of sass. “You’re not too shabby, Potter-Black. I think I’ll keep you around, “and then with her eyes showing the warmth she must feel, she added, “you’re good people Harry, so yeah, friends,” and Harry didn’t even have to think as he chuckled in relief at her childish response but nonetheless reached out to link his own pinkie with the one she held out towards him to seal the deal. 

“Well, since we have that settled, I’m going to go use your master bathroom,” she claimed abruptly.

“Why, what’s wrong with the other bathrooms?” he asked confusedly.

“Uh, hello, have you seen the size of that beautiful shower? It’s been calling out my name since it saw me,” she said with lustful intensity and turned to head upstairs, leaving him to shake his head at her eccentric behavior.

Women sure were weird and scary, he thought as he started to make his way to the kitchen to whip up some breakfast, but went to open the door at hearing the doorbell.

“Adele?” He looked in surprise at Richard’s lovely wife, standing on his doorstep with a covered dish in hand.

“Harrison! How are you, my dear boy?” she greeted with a genuinely large smile as she reached her arm out to accept his welcoming embrace.

“I’ve been great, Adele. Welcome to my new home,” he said with a happy smile as he ushered her in and relieved her of the weighty dish.

“I have to say, your house is absolutely stunning,” she exclaimed in awe, looking around the wooded foyer. 

“I’ll give you the full tour before you have to leave, but would you like to join me for breakfast?” he asked as he led her through the living and dining rooms on the way to the kitchen. 

“Don’t mind if I do, getting to have your cooking is always divine.” She continued to glance appreciatively around the warm wooden kitchen and seated bar area with stained glass windows and wood-lined ceiling, which curved out like the inside of a vintage railcar. 

They talked while he cooked, and he did get the expected demand to show up for dinner. He had just placed the platters on the bar counter, when he heard Callie around the corner, “Harry, I just realized I didn’t bring any spare clothes, so could you shazam them for me real qu…, oh!” She stopped at the doorway in shock as she caught sight of Adele with just towels wrapped around both her hair and body.

The older woman eyed them, and after politely greeting Callie, admonished, “Harrison, you should have told me you had company,” and Harry pinched the bridge of his nose at her likely conclusion.

“This is  _ not _ what it looks like, Adele,” he explained, glaring at the smirking Webber, “and if you’ll excuse us.” 

He quickly led the apologetically lip-biting Callie around the corner and cast a ‘scourgify’ to refresh her offered clothes, before allowing her to escape upstairs. 

“My, my, you work quickly,” the Chief’s wife teased once Harry returned back to the kitchen. “Only here for a little under two weeks and…,” she trailed off, allowing the obvious to go unsaid. 

Taking a seat across the bar from her, he served her a plate, before starting on his own. “She works at the hospital, and we’re just friends.” He looked at her eyes in emphasis. “We sort of bonded over similar family backgrounds, and her family sort of knows of mine through the same circles,” he clarified, taking a bite of his eggs. While he couldn’t tell her about the magical aspect, he could allow her to believe it was because both families were affluent. 

“Aah, so  _ just _ friends,” she said, pouting.

“Unfortunately,” he responded, smiling at her. “You’ll have to wait just a little longer I’m afraid.”

She huffed, “You’ve been telling me that for over five years now, Harrison. You know Richard and I don’t have children, so you need to give me some little ones, and I’m not getting any younger you know, so you better get a move on young man.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” He agreed cheekily.

He looked towards the hallway as he felt Callie’s magic and stood up just as she arrived. Motioning her over with a commiserating smile, he introduced, “Adele, this is Callie Torres. She’s a fourth-year Orthopedic resident at SGH. Callie, this is Adele Webber, the Chief’s wife.”

They moved to greet each other, and thankfully by the end of breakfast, both women seemed to get along well. 

Harry made sure to give Adele a quick tour of the house, which she adored, before Harry and Callie headed out for their shifts, and thanked her for baking him a treacle tart, promising again to come to dinner while they walked her out to her car. 

Sitting in his car, he looked towards Callie, “Well, that was quite the introduction,” only to receive a punch in the arm for his comment.

**Derek’s POV**

“Good morning, Dr. Bailey,” Derek greeted politely as he arrived beside her to wait for the crosswalk, taking a quick sip from his coffee cup to ward off the chill from the early morning Seattle air.

“Shut up, I know I've forgotten something, something is happening today, I know I should know what it is, but I just can't...,” she trailed off absently, leaving him momentarily stunned at her abrupt response. She did realize he was her boss right? Then again, knowing Bailey, she probably didn’t care. Choosing to take it in stride he opened his mouth only to be interrupted before he could reply.

“Hmm, someone’s got claws,” Derek twisted around to find Dr. Potter-Black had just joined them with a drink carrier in one hand and a paper bag in the other. “You should paint them, Bailey, as a warning for others,” the young Trauma surgeon teased with an easy-going smile on his face, which soon morphed into a grin when Bailey shushed him.

“Did she just ‘shush’ me?” Potter-Black whispered in an aside to Derek.

“At least you weren’t told to shut up,” The Neurosurgeon whispered back, just as amused as the other man. 

“Hmm.” The younger attending looked consideringly at the resident. What is she doing exactly?” 

Derek studied Bailey for a moment before giving the Brit a confused shrug. “Apparently trying to remember something that is supposed to happen today,” he explained while eyeing the man’s armload. “What’s all that?” 

Potter-Black lifted the items in his hands as if just remembering he had them and smiled. “Well, someone mentioned a shop around the corner with English-worthy tea, and I thought I’d grab the rest of the staff some goodies as a thank you for helping me integrate.” Derek considered his fellow surgeon for a moment, astounded at his thoughtful gesture, and found himself returning the smile. 

“That’s nice of you,” Derek complimented as he took a step onto the crosswalk, only for the Englishman to yank him back by his jacket with a loud, “Incoming!” The Neurosurgeon’s heart paced rapidly at nearly colliding with the bike which had zoomed by. 

Trying to calm his breathing he took note of Potter-Black directing Bailey safely behind the pole to avoid the oncoming horde of bikers. He positioned himself almost protectively in front of Bailey and Derek as the bikers swerved around them as if it was instinctual for him to do so. In Derek’s experience, he’d only seen cops and firefighters respond like that. 

“ _ Now _ , I remember,” Bailey muttered, grasping Potter-Black’s arm in a tight grip as the group finally passed, “those damn idiots,  _ every _ year they do this.” 

The Trauma surgeon chuckled as he picked up the bag from where he’d placed it by the flowerbeds, in one of the quickest responses Derek had ever seen, and grinned at Bailey as she swore.

“There, there, Bailey Bear.” Much to Derek’s amusement, she dropped the Trauma surgeon’s arm as if burned and glared at the young man. 

“No,” she said simply, “Nu-uh.” Derek brushed off imaginary dirt from his coat as he tried to swallow back his laughter and watched the scene unfold. The man must be fearless to poke the metaphorical hornet’s nest, he thought shaking his head.

“No? Are you sure? Huh, I was sure you’d be partial to it,” replied Potter-Black, drawing a quiet chuckle from Derek, which made him turn and smirk at the older man. “Alright there, Shepherd?” 

“Yeah, thank you, Dr. Potter-Black,” Derek responded after a quick clearing of his throat to pull back his composure. 

“Harrison is fine, please. I know my last name can be a mouthful.” 

Derek almost responded he was pretty used to saying hyphenated last names, before he stopped himself, and said instead, “Harrison then, and call me Derek,” before they all made their way towards the hospital.

**Preston’s POV**

Preston stood along with Richard, and Shepherd looking over the OR scheduling board for the day. 

“Excellent board. Well-timed, balanced, efficient. If all goes well, we'll have an early night,” the Chief declared with satisfaction, and Preston silently nodded along with his assessment. 

“Chief! Bailey asked me to remind you that the Dead Baby Bike Race started twenty minutes ago.”

All three men turned towards the unmistakable English accent and saw the Trauma leader sauntering towards them, his hands busy tying a patterned navy scrub cap around his head.

Richard announced the Race to the general area with a look of frustration, making all the staff that had experience with the fallout from it, start into action. One of the nurses came and wiped the board clean, making it ready for the eventual emergency surgeries that resulted from the event, and Preston sighed at having to tell his patients their surgeries would be pushed back another day.  _ So much for an organized day. _

_ Is that…  _ “Is that a Batman comic on your cap?” 

The Brit chuckled and replied, “Yeah, it’s a gift from my younger sister from when I was accepted into the residency program at Mayo Clinic.”

“Preston? Since when did he become Preston?” asked the surprised Neurosurgeon, sounding, dare he say, a touch jealous at Preston and Harrison acting friendly towards one another. Was it bad that he was enjoying this?. Nope, not at all, he thought.

“Ever since I hijacked him to Joe’s Bar for a few drinks,” the annoying man grinned like he’d accomplished something to be proud of. 

The C.T. surgeon, closed his eyes and shook his head at the ridiculous, cartoon scrub cap wearing surgeon’s behavior.

“Burke,” Preston turned his head to see Richard’s eyes rounded in surprise as he looked between Harry and Burke. “I didn’t know you were into ah…, Harry! That is my best C.T. surgeon!” The man sounded incredulous, but quickly amended with, “Ahem, yes, well, good luck out there in the trenches today.” With that, Richard walked off.

Thoroughly confused, Preston asked, “What?”

Harrison, as the other had asked Preston to call him, tilted his head and peered directly at him with glee filled eyes and whispered, “He most likely thinks I have designs towards you.”

Burke startled a little at the unexpected answer while Shepherd burst out in laughter.

“Don’t worry, that wasn’t my intention. At all,” Harrison reassured.

“Wait, you’re gay?” Shepherd asked, still trying to calm his laughter and coincidentally mirroring Preston’s own thoughts.

Harrison grinned unapologetically, “Not exactly,” winked at them and walked off, leaving Preston just a bit disconcerted. 

_ What just happened? _ His mind screamed at him as Shepherd too sauntered off. 

**Meredith’s POV**

Mer was so excited she could hardly wait to dive into the bleeding pool of patients in ‘the Pit’. To treat the onslaught of injuries which resulted every year from this ‘idiotic race’, Bailey had lead her group of interns down to the ER, and parted with a strict warning to not mingle with the ER interns, who apparently, “don’t know their asses from their esophagi.”

“Though, Dr. Potter-Black has been working with them to improve,” she’d added reluctantly. 

She’d instructed them to sew fast, discharge fast, and take bodies up to the OR, yesterday. Her final warning, accompanied by her ‘Nazi glare’ was not to fight over patients, of course that had flown out the window the minute the resident turned her back, and the interns had run and jostled for positions.

“Oh, it's like candy, but with blood, which is so much better,” exclaimed Cristina, and while Mer would have never phrased it that fervently, she had to agree. 

“Oh my god…” gasped Izzie, spotting a patient.

“Mine!” yelled Cristina. 

“I saw him first!” Izzie responded, and with that, both women had raced off to grab the dire looking patient.

Mer and Alex had spotted a man with bicycle spokes pin-cushioning one side of his abdomen and rushed to claim him, and after five minutes of bickering like children, Mer didn’t know why she allowed him to pull her down to his level, on who got the patient, they reached a conclusion. 

Well, maybe not so much of a conclusion, Mer thought in disgusted frustration as she watched Alex, being his usual ‘ass’ self, impatiently rip the spokes right out of the patient without any preliminary tests or scans, and leave while claiming the case wasn’t surgical.

That man really was infuriating and an undeniable ass, Mer thought as she glared at his retreating back, and lamented being cheated out of a surgery, while the others most likely found surgical cases. 

Even George was busy upstairs being the right hand for Dr. Webber. She hadn’t volunteered for said position when Bailey had asked because there was just something that niggled at her about the Chief of Surgery. She thought she remembered something about him, but could never recall the exact details.

Mer went back to sewing up the delinquent race participant,  _ Viper’s, _ perforations while he flirted with her nonstop. Despite her disgruntled thoughts, she couldn’t help being exasperatedly charmed by this ‘playa’, as he called himself, because apparently, she was a ‘rocking babe’. However, he was being difficult. No matter how much she advised him to complete some tests and scans to ascertain he’d be ok, he wanted to get out of here and get back to the race. 

She watched on as he signed the required AMA form and was completely taken aback when he grabbed her and kissed her quite thoroughly before leaving. 

Mer shook her head after him, dismissing him from her thoughts. He was without question an impulsive thrill-seeker, hence the race, and probably loved the challenge of propositioning a doctor.  She started to strip the sheet but caught sight of Derek, who was standing in the hallway giving her an assessing look through the window.

“You make out with patients now?” he asked, closing the door as he entered.

“What are you, jealous?” she shot back.

“I don't get jealous,” he said confidently.

“We had sex, once,” she firmly stated as if defining their entire relationship to him.

“And we kissed, in an elevator,” he said, getting technical. 

“And we kissed in an elevator, once!” She conceded. 

“No, seriously, I mean, come on, go out with me.”  _ And now we get to the point. _

“No.”

“You know, I almost died today. Yeah, I came like,” Derek gestured with a pinching motion, “this close. How would you feel if I died, and you didn't get a chance to go out with  _ me _ ?”  _ Now he’s trying the sympathy route, with a touch of narcissism? _

“Get over yourself already.”

“Come on,” he whiningly pleaded, but then thinking about her patient just now, she came to a sudden realization.

“It's the chase, isn't it?”

“What?” he asked confusedly.

“The thrill of the chase.” Everything seemed so clear now. “I’ve been wondering to myself, why are you so hell-bent on getting me to go out with you? You know you’re my boss,” she pointed out, “you know it’s against the rules, you know I keep saying no. It’s the chase.”

“Well, it's fun, isn't it?” he asked charmingly.

“You see? This is a game for you. But not to me. Because unlike you, I still have something to prove.” She stated with finality before she stormed out. She was so done with this, she huffed. Maybe Harry was onto something with the whole, ‘not getting into anything with a coworker’. Well, whatever it was, she was putting her foot down. Her foot was so down, it was indenting the ground. 

**George’s POV**

“What're you doing?” George looked up at hearing Alex’s question, and saw the other intern bent over the counter to write something on his clipboard.

“Hiding. There’s this VIP patient, he likes me,” George admitted. He had initially volunteered to be the Chief’s right-hand man, thinking he’d get to do something important, but instead, he’d been tasked to cater to Dr. Webber’s ‘dear old friend’ who’d been diagnosed with liver cancer. While he was a really nice man, George was pretty sure he was hitting on him.

“Well, that's good, right?” asked Alex, clearly not seeing the problem.

“He likes me, likes me.” George rephrased, putting some emphasis in it.

“Go for it, man, _get_ _yours_. I'm down with the rainbow.” Alex encouraged indifferently before he noticed George looking at him wide eyed and asked, “Oh. Are you not gay?”

“No!” George shot back incredulously, completely gobsmacked at the impression the other man had of him..

“Really?” Alex asked bemused. “Dude, sorry,” he added before leaving just as Izzie and Cristina came up to the counter.

“Cristina?” George lifted a floppy disk in the Asian inter’s direction, using it as a lure as if it was something she needed, but dropped it the second she came over.

“Do you - do you think - does Meredith think I'm gay?” he asked desperately. He really liked Meredith, and while his brain kept telling him he didn’t have a shot, his heart just wouldn’t stop hoping. Maybe this was why the svelte woman hadn’t been receptive to his invitations at furthering their friendship into something more, he thought with renewed hope.

“Are you?” She too asked impassively, like Alex.

“No,” he yelled in exasperation, starting to get tired of having to clarify something so obvious.

“Really?” she asked, and he hated how surprised she sounded. 

Getting tired of this, he asked, “So what have you both been working on? Got a good case?”

Looking a bit peeved, she explained, “Izzie and I got a John Doe that came in with a GCS of 3. Shepherd and Burke assessed him as brain dead but had us run confirmation tests and told us to wait the allotted six hours before declaring him, but damn it, I was really looking forward to surgery. So of course I asked Bailey if we would do a harvest surgery on him if we could get his family’s approval, but Dr. Izzie, here,” she shot a scathing look towards their light-blonde teammate, only to get a ‘Hey!’, “wants to ‘save’ him, even though he’s seriously brain dead.”

“So we’re trying to identify him, by the hotel key card he had on him, to get his family to sign off on the harvest,” she narrated without an ounce of sensitivity, but George really didn’t know why he continued to be surprised by her lack of empathy for others.

“No. We need to find his family so they can be with him. He’s someone’s loved one, he deserves to be surrounded by people that care about him,” interjected the much more sensitive, Izzie.

Suddenly enthused at the metaphorical gift that just fell in his lap, he asked, “You have a potential donor?” and seeing Cristina nod, “What's his blood type?”

“Uh, O-neg,” she said before leaving after Izzie. George hurriedly grabbed his VIP patient’s chart to double-check his blood type and started to make plans for the battery of tests Lloyd Mackie would need to prepare for a liver transplant. After all, the man deserved to live even if the much older man had a habit of hitting on him.

**Izzie’s POV**

Izzie looked at her John Doe and spoke to him with an encouraging tone.

"Okay, well, I know you probably can't hear me, and you're feeling this big push to go towards the light, where everything is all halos and all-you-can-eat buffets and stuff, and I mean, sharing your organs is really great and all, but I think you have a family. I can feel it. So I think it'd be great if you could do me a favor, and get better. Just ...live. So you think you could give that a shot for me?" 

Izzie's little motivational speech was suddenly interrupted by an alarm going off, as the patient began to crash, and his pulse dropped. Izzie started to panic. This couldn’t be happening, he still had half an hour to make a recovery. His family still hadn’t gotten to see him. 

She couldn’t handle this right now, and yelled for Meredith as she saw her passing by the window, and moved over to check the drip console. 

When the other intern ran in, she explained unnecessarily, “He's crashing.”

“Well, what the hell are you doing, call code!” The dark-blonde advised.

“I can't, I'm not supposed to, he's brain dead.” Izzie moved around, trying to help the patient desperately. 

“Well Izzie, if he's brain dead, you have to let him go,” said Meredith more calmly now, and Izzie felt her frustration rise at the other’s lack of help.

“No. It’s only been five hours and thirty-three minutes, he’s supposed to get six hours,” she stated firmly, hoping for the slender intern to understand.

“Well, we can't do anything to make him live, it's not our place to make that call.”

“He's a person, we're doctors, we should have every right to make that call. We can't just stand here and do nothing while he dies. He has a right to the next twenty-seven minutes.” Izzie expressed passionately.  _ How can Meredith not see this is our duty as doctors. We should do everything in our power to save lives. Every life should matter; why can’t she see that. _

Finally, seeing the desperate plea in her eyes, Meredith said, “Screw it. I'll get the dopamine, you get the blood, we'll transfuse him.” Izzie breathed in relief.

After the successful transfusion, Izzie and Meredith ran into Cristina in the stairwell.

“I had a radiologist look at his chest, and apparently, he has a traumatic aortic injury. He's going to rupture and bleed out.”

Cristina’s news, while bad, gave Izzie hope, “So he needs surgery.”

“If he's going to remain a viable organ donor, yeah.”  _ Why can’t Cristina ever care about the patients, instead of chasing after the biggest surgery? It’s supposed to be about the patients. _

“If he's going to live.” She corrected the Asian woman.

“Izzie…”

“No! I'm not giving up on him. He has the surgery, he lives longer, that's the point. So I'm going to help find the family, you guys find a way to get him into surgery,” and after that decisive comment, she continued up the stairs. 

**Miranda’s POV**

Miranda was exhausted, she’d been running around all day in the ER going from one patch-up job to the next. Working at her fastest pace to get through as many injuries as possible. She’d just gotten out of an intensive surgery, and learned what her interns had been up to, and she just needed to get away from their frustrating antics. 

She looked around the courtyard patio for a place to sit and take a moment to drink her coffee when she spotted Dr. Potter-Black at a table in the back having lunch. 

“Hey Bailey Be…,” the fool stopped at her glare, though she had to admit that it did make her tired heart smile a little.

“Don’t finish that thought.” She took a seat across from him, allowing the chair to take away most of her fatigue. 

“What weighs so heavily on your shoulders, and don’t say nothing, or that everything’s fine.”

His comment gave her pause. Miranda was used to taking care of herself. She’d been the only female in her intern group and had to work three times as hard as the others to stand out among her peers. She’d been quiet but had to become more ambitious, smarter, more intimidating, and no-nonsense to stay ahead and had won the first solo surgery out of her group. That had been how she’d earned her moniker of ‘The Nazi.’ She’d become satisfied with her place in life, or at least she had been until she took on her interns. Her pain in the ass interns. She hated relying on someone else’s help, but she was also smart enough to know when she needed it. So hoping to gain some advice from a superior who she’d barely known for two weeks, but for some reason, trusted to be objective, she poured it out.

“My interns,” she explained, allowing the ridge of her brow to fall into her palm.

“What have they done now, hmm?” he asked with a chuckle.

“Remember the John Doe brought in? GCS of 3?” She asked with a deep sigh. “Well, Cristina and Izzie were assigned to him, and they were supposed to perform confirmation tests to ascertain his’ brain dead’ status under Shepherd and Burke’s authorities. They did that, except Cristina brought up wanting to do a harvest surgery on him.”

She noticed the young department Head close his eyes and sigh and understood his feelings. “A little callous, perhaps, but so far, I don’t see a problem.”

“Oh trust me, it gets so much better,” she said sarcastically. She proceeded to inform the surgeon about Cristina asking her permission for the harvest, Izzie and Meredith performing a transfusion on the John Doe when he crashed, and their going over Burke’s head to the Chief when he refused to fix the patient’s aortic injury. Coupled with the Chief’s VIP patient being at the top of UNOS’s list for a new liver, it ended with the patient being identified and the arrival of his wife and young son.” She sighed on finishing but another thought came to her. 

“Since she’s been so zealous about this, I’m going to let Cristina take the lead on gaining consent for the organ harvest surgery and go through facing a grieving family,” she said, hoping to teach the intern a lesson in empathy.

She looked up at the man to see him sitting quietly with his eyes closed, brow furrowed in deep thought. “What’s your plan of action?”

“What else, I’m going to let them have a piece of my mind about giving me constant headaches,” she said in determination.

“That’s all?” he asked, finally opening his eyes and surprising her at the censure she saw there.

Feeling off-balanced at his disapproval, something she hadn’t had to face often from a superior, she said, “I don’t understand, what would you do in my place.”

“It’s not my decision you need, Dr. Bailey, it’s your own.” He must have seen her confusion because he leaned forward in his chair to rest his elbows on the table and clasped his fingers together, he went on, “What are you to them?”

She wasn’t sure where he was going with this, but something told her it was necessary, and she started to feel relieved that she approached him. “I’m their supervisor, their teacher.”

He nodded at her answer. “What do you hope to teach them? What legacy do you hope to pass onto them?”

The question shocked her. She’d never really put any thought into the matter. She’d just been assigned a group of interns and told they were her responsibility now, and thus far, she’s been going through the same motions with them as the ones she’d been put through during her own intern year. However, after giving his question the full consideration it deserved, she replied, “I want them to be competent, to learn how to behave with patients and their family members, to teach them to see their patients as people and not just cases.”

“How well do you think you’re doing at teaching them?”

“Good, I guess,” she said, but found herself surprised she didn’t feel as confident as she would’ve thought. “I don’t know.”

“Do you evaluate how they completed their assigned tasks?” Once again, she was taken aback by one of his questions.

“You mean, do I find out if they completed their tasks?” only to receive a blasé look that seemed to say ‘you know exactly what I mean.’

“No. Just that they completed their tasks.” She said, feeling a little ashamed at having to admit her realization.

“I can’t tell you what sort of teacher to be to your interns, but my first piece of advice is to stop feeling sorry for yourself.” That startled her into raising her head to look at him. “You might be a senior resident, but you are still learning about your field and the kind of surgeon and mentor you want to be. You have the right to make mistakes, as long as you follow through with your responsibility to improve upon them.” His first finger was soon joined by another. 

“Second, start evaluating how they go about completing your tasks. I’m sure you know as well as I, the nurses and techs on the floor are some of the most observant and biggest gossips. Utilize them as a resource to gather information about your interns, and use it to not just provide feedback to them so they know what to improve on, but more importantly to make them aware that their mistakes, behaviors, and the medical decisions they make are being monitored. 

Having been a mentor to my own team of interns and residents, I’ve realized the effectiveness of allowing your pupils the opportunity to improve while impressing that there will be consequences for any mistakes or unruly behavior. Third, always keep in mind, not all students are created equal, so it’s your responsibility as their mentor to know their different personalities so you can alter your method to best fit their needs.”

Miranda hated to ask, but so far, the things he’d pointed out were profoundly eye-opening for her. The more he spoke, the more she relaxed. She hadn’t felt like this since she’d first started here, and Dr. Webber had taken her under his wing. While this man in front of her may be younger than the majority of surgeons in his position, she couldn’t forget the depth and breadth of experience he brought to the table. So swallowing her prideful hesitation, she asked for some examples.

“Well, from the little I’ve interacted with each of your interns, George has self-confidence issues and compares himself to the others too much. He might not stand out from the rest in his group as he doesn’t come across as naturally talented as Cristina or Meredith, but he has the best work ethic of them all. He is evenly balanced in his professionalism and his bedside manner. He’s easily reachable and dependable. He respects his superiors and consults their opinions instead of being a cowboy, yet isn’t afraid to stand his ground with the others’ overbearing personalities. Allow him the sole opportunities away from the other interns, so he can grow into himself. Give him positive feedback when he does well because he often displays signs of being the odd one out of a family, always having to prove himself without much encouragement.”

Miranda found herself impressed. She’d been around George longer than Dr. Potter-Black, and even she hadn’t noticed most of these qualities about the shyer of her male interns and started to think about her other interns, breathing in relief as the Trauma attending chose to continue on his analysis of her unruly group.

“Alex likes to play the tough cowboy, but I think that might stem from earlier life experiences where he had to play the tough and confident role to get by. Like George, give him positive feedback when he does well, but show him you see past his front, or as they like to say it here, his BS. He’ll mellow out soon enough.”

“Izzie…,” she whispered, thinking about her most sensitive intern, but his next comment made her nervous about what his insight might reveal about the light-blonde woman.

“I’m leaving Izzie for last, for a reason. Now Meredith is gifted and has great intuition when it comes to medicine, but as the case with the transfusion showed, she can be led to ignore it to help a friend or colleague. Also, she still has a lot to learn about dealing with a larger range of emotions when it comes to dealing with patients and their families. Luckily, she tends to be open to constructive criticism and is always willing to learn. You need to be firm in reprimanding her in cases such as these. While helping someone is well and good, she needs to stand by her instincts, or one day, she might find her career and license in jeopardy.”

Miranda was starting to fear about the two remaining interns, and what the Trauma Head had laid out for her, painted a troubling picture. Fortunately, the issues were still mild and mendable, which meant she needed to become a more proactive mentor. She looked at him looking at her, giving herself time to process everything he’d just dumped on her. After a moment, she gestured with an upraised hand, for him to continue.

“Your two toughest mentees will be Cristina and Izzie, both are amazingly similar but at different ends of the spectrum,” he stated, taking a sip of his tea and pushing half of his sandwich towards her. She opened her mouth to refuse, but he interrupted in a solid tone tempered by an encouraging smile. “You need more than coffee to keep you running, Miranda. You, your patients, and your interns deserve you in your top form.”

She gave the sandwich a thoughtful look. He just had to bring in her patients and interns, didn’t he, now she  _ had _ to eat it. With a quick, “Thank you,” she took a bite and  _ good Lord! _

She watched as he directed a knowing smile at her while taking another casual sip of his tea. Finishing her bite, she asked, “What’s in here? This is a-ma-zing,” before she dug into another bite.

“Some whole wheat, with crushed avocados and kale pesto, melted cheese blend, natural turkey, with garlic tomatoes, and a bit of crispy bacon bits. You like?”

“Love it. Where did you find this?” and when all Miranda got was a vague shrug, she wondered. “You  _ made _ this?” she got a nod, “Yourself?” another nod, “This is much more impressive than your journal articles.” That got her a deep-throated laugh.  _ He really is a beautiful man, when he’s laughing like that _ , she thought.

While this moment of distraction was much appreciated, she wanted to get the rest of his analysis. She only had a few more minutes of break time left. 

“Cristina and Izzie?” she initiated.

“Yes, ahem, they are similar, but where Cristina is all logic, Izzie is all emotion.”  _ Nothing I don’t already know _ , she thought.

“I believe they need the most one-on-one mentoring and active counseling on improving their critical thinking skills. Both get extreme tunnel vision, and where Cristina solely sees the procedure, Izzie only sees the patient’s survival. The problem isn’t just with their behaviors, but with their natural thought processes, and Miranda, truthfully speaking, it might one day come back to bite all of us in the arse. The way they’re going right now, Cristina will use any means necessary to see success, whether its underhanded tactics, going over a superior’s head, or manipulation. Izzie, from her actions with her John Doe, shows a dangerous level of empathy. She will forgo everything she has been taught, all logic, every order from her superiors, just to see the outcome which she believes is the right one.”

He sighed and looked away in evident agitation of the possible consequences that might result if Izzie and Cristina weren’t kept in check.

“I should place them in active counseling so they can process their decisions and the possible repercussions that might result for the patient, their families, their mentors, and the hospital.”

Miranda received a nod at her definitive statement. “I think their strengths will present the biggest hurdles. Cristina has the education, the brilliance, and the talent to back up her confidence to the point that anything which is not a straightforward conclusion seems illogical in her mind. Izzie’s ability to empathize has the potential of becoming so intrusive, she might rationalize all her illogical decisions, and people with her way of thinking have a tendency to disregard the logic others correct them with.”

Miranda was a strong and capable woman, but the thought of correcting so much before it devolved made her want to run away, and as if he understood exactly what she was thinking, he placed his hand on, palm up, beside hers in a silent offer of support. After an uncertain look at him, she hooked her fingertips around his, using it to anchor herself against her turbulent thoughts.

“If I may offer some personal advice?” At receiving her puzzled look, he said, “When I was a teenager, I had an entire world’s expectations riding on my shoulders. I used to think if both others and I expected myself to stand up to these expectations, then there was no other option than for me to be strong enough to meet them, and if I didn’t it was  _ my own _ personal failure. It was all on  _ me _ .”

Miranda became absorbed into his narrative, though she was slightly confused why a child would have so much responsibility pushed upon him.

“It took years of therapy, numerous interventions from friends, and the ones I call family to come to the realization it takes a  _ strong _ man or woman to admit they need help. It takes an even stronger and more confident human being to place the task above their own insecurities.”

“Did it turn out, okay?” She needed to see if following a similar path would lead to a positive change with her current situation.

With an upturn of his mouth that showed both nostalgia and contentment, he admitted, “Every day. Every single time I choose to admit I need help, it turns out for the better. Presently, I want to ask the Chief for a personal and highly qualified administrative assistant who can help me in leading my departments. Sure, momentarily it might make me seem weak to the other Heads who manage to run their departments on their own, but…,” he took a casual look around, leaned closer as if to tell a secret, and said, “I bet their departments aren’t running as smoothly, as problem-free, or just as efficiently, as they would if they had the additional help. At the end of the day, Miranda, you have to decide if you’d rather save face and continue with the status quo, or rise above it, and complete your task better than anyone ever imagined.”

His words held so much inspiration and fire, Miranda thought she could take on anything at the moment. 

“I should probably talk to the Chief, then,” she said coming to a decision.

“That would be a great start. Get Shepherd and Burke involved if needed, to highlight the interns’ unruly behavior, lay out all the facts, provide a recommended plan of action, ask for any help needed.” He finished conclusively, as he stood, giving her an arched look.

“What,  _ now _ ?” She said in surprise and not a little bit of panic as she got up as well.

“Any reason to put it off?,” he asked.

“Well no, not really,” she relented, as he started to walk away, giving her no chance to talk herself out of it. So, she followed.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The American cartoonist, Dr. Theodore Suess once said, “When something bad happens, you have three choices. You can either let it define you, let it destroy you, or you can let it strengthen you.” It took me a pathetically long time to start living by those words. Before Andromeda forced me to go through therapy if I ever wanted to see Teddy again, I had gone through my entire life being defined by my experiences thus far. It had affected the way I dressed, the way I walked, my lack of self-esteem, the way I didn’t stand up to peer pressure even from Ron and Hermione. The loss of the loves of my life during the war destroyed me, shattered me, made me into a ghost of myself. Others always wonder how I can treat mere friends as family and love them so open-heartedly. How can I not, when they stood by me through my destruction and helped me to turn that destruction into strength. Strength to see it as a test of my character, strength to move forward, and strength to turn any bad circumstances to my advantage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Hey guys, we are so sorry for not posting this chapter early as we promised but when we split Ch. 4 into two parts we never realized we only left this chapter at less than 3000 words and having to make adjustments rather than writing on a black slate, trying to get all the characters’ emotions just right, took frustratingly longer than we thought.   
> Buut, we managed to add a lot more content and managed to get the chapter to 5000 words, so yeh!  
> Also, once again thank you to our reviewers for your wonderful comments and critiques, we really appreciate your feedback as a guideline for how we’re doing and what things need to be changed. As per one of our guest reviewer’s suggestions, we have changed Harry’s nickname from McAlpha to McYummy and we’ve updated Cristina’s explanation in Ch. 3.   
> As for the continued requests we keep receiving to change the pairings, guys we get where you’re all coming from as fanfic readers, but as writer and how far out we’ve planned the story already, we’re sticking with Addy and Mark. We’re truly sorry for those who are crossing their fingers for us to change it LOL, but Addy and Mark are here to stay for the foreseeable future.   
> Just enjoy the journey of how they come together and build a life for themselves. After all, a story is all about the journey rather than the destination.   
> P.S. we’re created a sort of companion guide to MTJS on Pinterest where you can find pictures of the hospital, Harry’s house, car, and tattoos, the characters from the wizarding side of Harry’s life, Harry’s drawings and doodles, and so much more. The link is: 
> 
> https://www.pinterest.com/nuv86/more-than-just-surviving-hpga-fanfic/
> 
> Please let us know if you find any errors, our beta RHatch89 did an amazing job but we made more adjustments after he read so any mistakes are our fault.  
> Ep. Ref: S01E03

###  **Meredith’s POV**

Mer studied her pager with a frown, beyond ready for the end of her shift. First, Karev had been an absolute  _ ass _ in ‘The Pit,’ then she’d allowed herself to get provoked by the flirtations of the frustratingly charming McJackass, and then she’d had to deal with, as Harry would say, the FUBARed situation with Izzie. 

Dear God,  _ Izzie _ ! She’d wanted to  _ save  _ a brain dead patient, and Mer had let her kicked puppy look weaken her own logic, and she’d actually helped the lighter-blonde with her idiotic plan.  _ Stupid, Stupid, Stupid Meredith! _

Now, standing in front of her open locker, she resisted the urge to wallow in her own disappointment when Alex burst in exclaiming, “God, I smell good!” 

Mer grimaced at the sight of him, trying to contain her ire at how he’d stolen a surgery right from underneath Cristina and Izzie. 

“You know what it is? It’s the smell of open-heart surgery,” he said with an unrepenting, almost manic grin as he sniffed the air. “It’s awesome, it is  _ awesome _ . You have to smell me.” 

Mer paused as the man leaned into her space, his arms grasping the edge of the lockers and her door effectively trapping her. Taking a fortifying breath while trying to breath as little of him in as possible, she replied, “I don’t want to smell you.” 

Apparently, Karev didn’t take the hint because he thought nuzzling her hair was a good idea. “Oh, yeah, you do,” and his comeback caused something in Mer to just snap. It was the only explanation she would be able to give if asked why she grabbed her fellow intern by his shirt and slammed him against the opposite lockers with surprising strength. She opened her mouth to tell Karev off only to be interrupted by a deep voice. 

“Meredith Grey!” She winced at Harry’s calm and level voice, it being the only indication of his sudden appearance. “Step away. Sit down, and check yourself.” 

Fuck, this was serious. Harry didn’t get riled up easily, but when he did, heads had a tendency to roll. So Mer did as told and took in the surprised expressions on both Derek and Bailey’s faces, as well as the disappointed one on Harry’s. 

_ Shit! And just when I’d thought this day couldn’t get any worse. _

  
  


###  **Richard’s POV**

Richard knew he was getting way too old for this crap. Which was precisely why he’d brought all his candidates together in the hopes it would help him in choosing his successor. While he’d initially hinted at the possibility to Burke, the Cardiothoracic Head liked to play it safe and stuck to the status quo a little too much for him to be the best choice in Richard’s opinion. 

He’d enticed Derek Shepherd as another possibility. However, Richard was still evaluating the man, and from what he’d seen so far, Derek was brilliant in his work and wasn’t afraid to try new things, but he still had a ways to go in finding the right balance between practicing medicine and managing his department and it’s personnel. Which was why Richard’s first choice had been, and still was, Harry. 

The man he’d unofficially mentored for the last decade was as gifted as the others, innovative like Derek, if not more so as proven by his Avery status, strict like Preston, and had already shown an abundance of talent and forethought towards being a leader. 

He’d only been here for two weeks, and already he’d spoken to Richard, at length, about changing up the staffing model, developing better training for his staff, getting an administrative assistant, and a bucket load of procedural changes that would breathe new life into his ER and Trauma Departments. 

Harry’s vision had excited Richard. The Englishman was already living up to his every expectation, which while excellent was also a source of frustration for the old surgeon because he had just the man he wanted, but he was being stubborn in his refusal to take over Richard’s position.

Instead of relieving his stress, Harry, along with Bailey, had brought the interns’ shenanigans to his notice. His new Trauma Head being who he was, had at least had Bailey present him with a plan of action. Richard might be getting on in years, but he was no fool. It may have been the feisty resident who had laid it all out, but the Chief had known his willful protégé long enough to see the young man’s handy work all over it. Richard was just relieved Harry was holding up to the promise he’d made on his first day here of lightening the load for his mentor, and was turning out to be an invaluable advisor and possible right hand. 

The problem caused by the interns was troubling however, but fortunately still easily remediable with early intervention. While the other interns were doing well for the most part, Meredith would need a slight talking to, Yang would need closer monitoring, but they had decided to take more drastic measures with Stevens. That girl was on a slippery slope which would get her and this hospital in trouble one day. 

Since this incident would be noted in their records as a first strike, the plan was to have Bailey, as their supervisor, confront her interns with their errors, their lack of logical thinking, and hand out the appropriate disciplinary actions. 

Upon Harry’s recommendation, they’d decided to also inform Shepherd and Burke, as the Attendings involved, of the interns’ actions and their repercussions so they could all present a united front during the disciplinary phase. 

Derek and Preston had not been happy to hear the full details of the events. The Neurosurgeon had not been aware of how fully Stevens’ had ignored his diagnosis and orders for the patient, and Preston had not been pleased that they’d gone over his head, disregarding his medical experience and authority. However, they had been agreeable with the intern’s punishments and saw the wisdom in showing a cohesive stand. 

With all that taken care of, Richard was hoping the progress reports from Bailey reported improvements in the intern’s behaviors; otherwise, he would need to take more drastic action. He really hated this part of the job. 

  
  


###  **Meredith’s POV**

Mer had been a ball of nerves since the locker room incident and it had caused her to have a fitful night. Harry didn’t get mad at her often, but whenever he did, it always left her feeling guilty. He was usually an endless well of patience with most people which was why the feeling of letting him down had always made her feel much worse than facing his anger, and to Mer, for whom Harry had filled the role of a mother, father, and brother, it was a depressing place to be.

Which was why, as she was pulling into the parking lot of Seattle Grace, she was confident the effects from the previous day weren’t over. Harry wouldn’t just allow her to get away with going against an attending’s orders and pulling fights at work. She’d discovered early on after meeting Harry that he was a stickler for not letting infractions go ignored without the perpetrators facing appropriate discipline. 

She’d once brought it up with Hermione, only to be told by Harry’s studious best friend about their experiences at Hogwarts, their professors’ lack of action towards bullies, and the adults outright ignoring some students’ misdeeds. She’d told Mer how this had led to the students’ behaviors becoming worse which eventually led to dire consequences during the second war with Voldemort. 

Mer, having heard more on the topic from some of the other members of the Weasley family, especially Fleur, knew many in the British wizarding world agreed with Harry and Hermione that things with Slytherin House wouldn’t have gotten as tragic as they did if their Headmaster had censured their behavior in earlier years, which was why Harry always made sure the ones who made mistakes were made to face their deeds

_ Maybe if I avoid him, he’ll simply forget about it?  _

A tap at her window startled Mer from her contemplation, and she looked up to find Cristina. 

“Oh, hey,” she greeted through her open window. 

“Why do you look like you’re about to flee the country?” Cristina asked, her eyes surveying Mer with suspicion. 

Mer sighed heavily as she reached over the gear shift to grab her bag. 

“Did something happen with McDreamy?” 

_ I think I would prefer that over this.  _

“No, Harry.” 

“What happened?” Cristina questioned as she adjusted her helmet under her arm, her tone conveying her curiosity. 

“He saw me snap at Alex after Burke’s surgery,” muttered Mer. She looked up to see the other intern’s attentive expression and reluctantly added, “And I’m pretty sure he knows about the stuff with the brain dead patient.” 

Cristina arched a speculative brow as they began to walk into the hospital. “So what, it’s not like anything happened? I mean, everything turned out fine in the end.” 

“You don’t understand. Harry would never let me get away with acting so stupidly, I’ll…, we’ll definitely be hearing about it,” Mer admitted right as they were about to enter the locker room.

“Pssh, you’re overthinking it,” Cristina said as she pulled down her scrubs top over her head. “Besides, what’s the most they can do? Like I said, everything worked out, and we had a good reason for what we did. So, you might be susceptible to McYummy’s disapproval, but I can handle whatever he can throw at me?” 

Mer remained quiet as she traded her own clothes for scrubs and shook her head at Cristina’s naivety, her eyes spotting Izzie across the room. She couldn’t help but feel a little resentful at allowing herself to be led astray by the other intern’s actions yesterday.

“Trust me, he’ll just break down every one of your arguments with logic, until you have nothing left to defend yourself,” the dark-blonde replied as she tuned out her thoughts about yesterday. Cristina hummed skeptically just as the door opened to reveal Dr. Bailey. 

Mer felt her heart constrict as the smaller woman peered at the two of them, her face resembling an imminent thunderstorm, and Mer felt her stomach drop.

“All of you, we need to have a talk, follow me.” 

_ Well shit... _

###  **Cristina’s POV**

Cristina tried to focus on Bailey as the resident talked to John Doe’s wife about donor consent but thoughts from their earlier meeting continued to persistently pull her away from the present. 

Bailey had been in full Nazi mode as she’d pulled Cristina’s entire intern group into a conference room where they’d spend the next half hour being lashed by her scathing tongue. Cristina and the others had chosen to remain quiet, strictly out of self-preservation, as the woman had listed out in minute detail the stupidity of their decisions and actions in their handling of the brain dead patient.

The older woman’s critique of the situation and punishment was entirely unfair in her opinion but she was glad she wasn’t alone in this because Mer and Izzie were in the same boat as her, but the situation still rankled her. 

This was not how she had imagined her life as a surgeon beginning. Cristina had no doubts about her brilliance. In fact she’d spent her entire life from elementary school through medical school being praised by relatives, teachers, professors, and mentors for her intelligence and ambition. She’d worked hard and excelled in every aspect of her academics and had fully expected her venture into the professional world to follow the same route. 

Yet, here she was not even a few weeks into her internship and she had already received a permanent demerit on her thus far spotless record, and it pissed her to no end. She had the potential to be a damn fine surgeon. She’d graduated first in her program, damn it. She deserved to be in the O.R. honing her talents, proving herself to be a cut above the rest, but how could she do that when they were sidelining them, making Mer, Izzie, and her explain every action they took, decision they made, and why in writing through the next two weeks of their probation. 

It wasn’t even as if she had done anything wrong, well not too wrong. Sure they had skirted around the attendings’ instructions a little, but they’d done so for good reasons. What were they supposed to do, let completely viable organs go to waste because it was a cutthroat thing to do?

Cristina didn’t care about doing what was polite. She wasn’t blind either and knew exactly how others saw her. They took her ambition and logical thought process to mean she was insensitive, callous, a bitch, but she didn’t care. Being effective and competent was more important to her than being nice. She’d promised herself she’d never allow herself to be in a position of being incompetent ever again, to freeze in a critical moment, to lose someone, watch them die instead of saving them. Watching her father bleed right in front of her as the life slowly faded from his eyes, no, never again. So maybe she was overly heavy-handed in her approach, as long as it got her results she was fine with it. 

As she tried to actively focus back on following along with the process of gaining consent for an organ harvest, it occurred to her to evaluate if Dr. Potter-Black was to blame for the events which had precipitated. Afterall, hadn’t Mer been afraid something like this might happen? No matter how much Cristina thought on the subject however, she just couldn’t seem to settle her feelings about the man. On one hand, if he had brought this upon them then for all intents and purposes she should hate him, but on the other, she still respected him, his success, his way of teaching them so openly and patiently. 

She breathed out a weary sigh. Why had life become so complicated?

###  **Harry’s POV**

Harry entered his house after sending off Wardsmith Kamorr and his team. The goblin had informed him the wards he’d requested were in place, complete with a wartime option he could activate if needed before he’d handed over the wardbook and the Black Orb. Harry had thanked him and bid him farewell with a clasp of their forearms. 

Harry made his way towards the library to place both items in the blood protected safe room. A Family’s Ward Orb was guarded zealously by it’s Head since it contained generations of specialized ward advancements personalized to each family. Harry wouldn’t usually allow the Black or the Potter Orbs to be handled by just anyone, except for the fact that he and Kamorr had years of trust to fall back on. 

He’d first met the goblin after the war. Apparently, he had felt honor-bound to apologize for his brother, Griphook’s, duplicity during the war. He had explained to Harry that while the Sword of Gryffindor might be coveted by their people, his brother’s actions had brought dishonor to their clan. In turn to show he held no grudges, Harry had granted his forgiveness and understanding and had gone as far as to ask the senior wardsmith to handle the reactivation of his properties from where they lay dormant since the deaths of Lord Arcturus Black, and his own grandfather Lord Fleamont Potter.

After the tense initial formalities were out of the way, Harry had admitted to the two goblins in the room, Kamorr and his Potter account manager Bartók, that he’d fully expected to become persona non grata with the Goblin Nation. He’d confessed his surprise at even being let into the bank, only for both of them to laugh in a terrifying display of teeth, not that Harry would ever acknowledge such a thing. 

He’d been told that Goblins was a race of warriors who had been suppressed by wizards to sustain their nature through the utter monotony of banking, and there wasn’t much that brought them excitement anymore. His actions had been a welcome amusement and seen as a worthy challenge which they had been unfortunately unprepared for. At his perplexed look, Bartók had explained in confidence, along with the threat of painful death if he ever said a word to others, that with their gladiator like natures bound by their treaties with the wizards, the sign outside their bank was a way to invite challenge rather than an actual warning.

Harry shook his thoughts away from the exasperatingly absurdity of Goblins. He’d had a shift today which had made him unavailable to work with the warding team personally. So, he had resorted to allowing his old friend to use the family’s Orb to cast the Black wards on his new home. Placing the Orb and wardbook in the safe and allowing the floorboard to lock seamlessly back into place, he took a moment to just let his magic align with the new wards, feeling their power and the security, safety, and surveillance they offered. With living in the mundane world, he technically didn’t have much use for wards with a wartime standing, but he was a paranoid bastard and as life had taught him repeatedly, shit happened. 

Getting up off the floor of his well stocked library, something which made him smirk and think of the often envious and lamenting Hermione, he called out to Winky. Weary as he was from the day’s events he asked his mothering yet lovable elf to take care of dinner tonight before he made his way up the stairs for a well deserved hot shower or, better yet, a bath.  _ Yeah, that sounds really good.  _

It was nine at night, and he’d just pulled a thirty-hour shift. He might have been later to come home if he’d decided to see to an AMA patient of Mer’s, Viper, who had come back and collapsed due to blood loss from internal bleeding. He’d been too exhausted, though, and had instead assigned Dr. Ashley Davidson, one of his Trauma attendings and second-in-command, to oversee the patient. Last Harry had heard, Bailey and Mer would be assisting.

Harry made his way through his bedroom into the master bath to turn the faucet for the tub thinking of Mer and the trouble she’d gotten herself into this time. He really hoped she saw Bailey’s reprimand for what it was, an eye opener, and used it to rise above her mistakes.

He had seen her potential from the beginning no matter the vitriol Ellis had brandished at the girl. He had realized time and time again how brilliant, kind-hearted, and hardworking Mer was. No matter what medical knowledge or obscure procedure Harry had thrown at her during her college years, she’d shown her natural inclination to the field by absorbing every bit of it. 

Mer might not present herself as openly ruthless as Cristina Yang but he knew her too well to doubt her level of passion and ambition to succeed as a surgeon and he would hate to see the girl he’d enfolded into his life as a little sister and watched grow up in front of him, fall off her chosen path. 

The tired wizard submerged his body into the toasty warm water of the tub, and just allowed it’s buoyancy to bear the weight of his fatigue, wash away his troubles, and give his mind free reign to roam where it wanted. 

It randomly struck him, for the thousandth time, that even something as simple as relaxing in a bathtub like this had taken him years to feel comfortable with. To not feel wrong or awkward at wanting to indulge every once in a while. Even though several Weasleys had become part of his chosen family, it had been Andromeda and his godson who had done the bulk of work in getting him truly acquainted with real living for the first time in his life. 

He’d never realized how residing with the Dursley’s and never having someone who genuinely cared for his basic needs like a parent, had taken its toll. Once he’d come under Andy’s attention however, he’d started to learn how to keep himself groomed, how to pick clothes, how to feel confident in himself, and how to own up to his hard-earned talents. She’d slowly showed him it was okay to not feel guilty at wanting more from life than to merely survive and get by. Even he had to admit, before them he and his life had been pathetically sad.

After his general disconnect from the world and his uncertainty about his place in it became apparent to her, Andy had encouraged him to study his families’ histories in hopes it would help him find some connections. Getting to know his Potter and Black, from Sirius’ adoption, roots had finally settled something in him. It had finally given him a way to connect to this world. Learning about his ancestors’ deeds had, for the first time in his life, made him feel pride and honor for his family names. 

Potter and Black, Black and Potter. So much history, so many accomplishments, so much impact on both the wizarding and mundane worlds,  _ so much _ heritage. It had inspired him, made him want to continue their legacies, to make such a significant difference that it left a mark in both worlds. It gave him a purpose when he had been so adrift. 

He could never thank Andy enough for pushing him, and to his continued wonderment, his deeds after the war had brought him more significant success and satisfaction than defeating Voldemort had. He felt proud in the knowledge that his image as the Boy-Who-Lived had been overshadowed by his accomplishments in medicine. It had taken a grueling amount of effort, endless nights of sleep deprivation, and endless days with stress headaches, but he’d worked past being a mere tool of war, to become a healer. 

Feeling the water starting to cool, he stepped out of the tub and had just finished put on some lounging clothes when Winky popped in by his bedroom door. 

“Little Master.”

_ Oh for Merlin’s sake! Just because I haven’t found anyone to settle down with and have children! _ He didn’t even have to look at her to see the passive-aggressive glint in her eyes. 

“Miss Vicky is being in the floo.”

He was surprised at the sudden call, but quickly nodded his head in acknowledgement and ‘shadowed’ to the living room fireplace and kneeled down on the cushioned rug, placed there just for this reason.

“Victoire, how’s my Little Pixi?” he asked, feeling happy to see his eldest niece. 

“I’m so glad you’re home, and good thing mum and dad had your new floo address on the fridge!” Her frantic tone gave him cause to worry. “Can we come through please, Uncle Harry? Mum and Dad are out, and I agreed to babysit Fred, and he keeps crying, and I really don’t want to ruin Uncle George and Aunt Anjie’s date, and I don’t know what to do,” she said, sounding near tears. 

Worried about little Fred, he reassured her and stepped aside to give her space to come through. His house was soon filled by the pitiful wailing coming from the two-year-old, curly red-haired toddler in the fourteen-year-old blonde Veela’s arms. They were quickly followed by Victoire’s eight-year-old, auburn-haired sister, Dominique. The girls looked perturbed, while the little guy tearfully reached out his small arms at seeing his Uncle Harry. 

The older wizard paused momentarily as the debilitatingly painful rush of memories played across his mind at the sight of this boy. Despite the years of therapy which had gradually helped him move on after the war, Harry still couldn’t help the initial heart-wrenching pang of loss and abandonment which struck him every time he saw either George, Angelina, or little Fred. Nonetheless, he _ had _ gotten better over the years at working through these moments to be almost indistinguishable to most people. 

So, pushing away his personal issues on the matter, Harry reached out to lift his nephew from Victoire’s hold, and brought him closer to settle on his chest. After all, this precious boy was completely innocent and Harry loved him regardless of how much he reminded the war hero of the future which could never be, and the family that could have been his if the final battle hadn’t inadvertently taken both his soulmates from him. 

He shook himself out of his depressing thoughts as Fred pulled at the neck of his t-shirt while his little legs tried to latch onto Harry’s torso. 

“Ee huwh, Uca Hawwy,” little Fred sobbed, and Harry placed his palm on the boy’s back to run a quick diagnostic spell, while he soothed the moaning toddler with whispered words.

“Hey, Little Kit. Do you wanna tell me where it hurts?” His nephew shook his head and just nuzzled his face in his uncle’s shoulder. 

Getting the results back and realizing what was wrong, he headed towards the kitchen as he spoke to the children, “Well, our Little Kit seems to be suffering from a tummy ache. Isn’t that right, little man?”

Winky gasped at seeing the crying child and came over to hover around the group. “Oh, poor dear. Can Winky be’s getting something for Little Ginger.” The elf’s moniker for Fred earned a little giggle from Dominique and Harry gave her a wink, making her giggles turn into muffled laughter as her older sister shook her head at their silliness. 

Turning to Winky, he explained, “He just has some indigestion from overeating, could you please boil him some ginger and fennel water, and add a few drops of soothing potion?” Continuing to rub his palm against the boy’s back who’s sobbing had quieted down to hurt filled moans, Harry opened his free arm and pulled a smiling Victoire into his other side.

“I’ve missed you, Little One,” he said with a content sigh, and gave her a kiss on her hair. 

He’d never admit it out loud, but while he was whole-heartedly in love with his son and all his nieces and nephews, Teddy and Vic were his dearest. Most likely because they were his first experiences with something so fragile being in his care. 

It was the worst-kept family secret that they’d both had Harry wrapped around their tiny little pinkies as babies, not that much had changed, and with the growing horde of children in the family, there were a lot more pinkies to be wrapped around. Truly pathetic, he knew, but why fight a good thing. 

“I missed you a lot Uncle Harry, it’s been really long,” she whined with the dramatics of a teenager. He chuckled, and deadpanned that she’d seen him three months ago during Easter holidays.

“I know, but that was like  _ forever _ .” 

Choosing to humor her, he refrained from commenting further on the topic and accepted her kiss on his cheek. “Well we’re all glad to have you back for the summer,” he said as he gave her one last squeeze before he moved on to pull his younger niece into a bear hug. 

“And how’s my tiny little Sweet Pea, hmm? How come you haven’t visited me in months? Do you know how lonely and boring it’s been?” He pulled away giving her a sad face, only to receive her tinkling giggle.

“You’re being silly Uncle Harry, but I promise to visit more so you’ll have someone to play with and won’t get bored,” she said with innocent sympathy, and there went his heart, falling in love all over again. He swore they were going to do him in one day with their cuteness. It was all very disgusting, really.

“That is very sweet of you, Miss Dominique,” he said as he grabbed the sippy cup Winky offered and gave it to the little boy with careful instructions to drink slowly.

He turned back to the redhead when she asked, “Uncle Harry, um, why do I have to be a pea, I don’t like peas?” Her nose scrunched in distaste. 

Harry clutched his chest like she’d hurt him, and added a lip pout for effect, which had the older girl turned away to hide her quiet laughter. 

“You don’t want to be my Sweet Pea anymore?”

She took a moment to access if he was being serious before deciding he needed to be comforted. “Don’t be sad Uncle Harry. I can still be your Sweet Pea,” she said, graciously nodding her head enthusiastically to make him believe.  _ Yup, works every time _ , he thought in satisfaction.

Not feeling so tired anymore and noticing Victoire’s wandering eyes, he asked, “So who wants to see the house, get some dinner, and play board games?”

“Me!” they both yelled. 

_ Life is good!  _ First, though, he needed to text Bill and let him know about the kids’ whereabouts.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Human beings waste so much of their limited time on Earth chasing a perfect life, but here’s the secret, such a thing doesn’t exist. Life involves going through struggles, achievements, failures, honours, insults, love, hatred, friendships, loss, enlightening discoveries, and disillusionments. It took me a long time to understand that life’s ups and downs came in continuous waves. During my years of struggles at Hogwarts, the only thing that had kept me going was the thought that everything would be perfect once Voldemort was defeated, but it was just the same. The struggles still continued, along with the loneliness, sprinkled with happiness here and there. It wasn’t until the realization hit that a perfect life is not a thing, but an ideal achieved in one's own perception, that things began to look up. Life still continues to come at me in waves, but the way I chose to look at it, confront it, roll with it, and embrace it has made it pretty perfect.

**Meredith’s POV**

Meredith lay sprawled on her back, having spent yet another sleepless night cataloging the cracks on her bedroom ceiling. Her mind had been too busy ruminating on the recent twists of her life to let her get any decent amount of sleep. 

Lately, with all the new changes in starting her intern year, trying to find her flow as a burgeoning yet novice surgeon, and navigating all the new relationships she’d suddenly developed, she’d started to feel the old emotions of anxiety well up again. It almost felt like she was drowning, again and again, stuck under the relentless swells of a tempestuous ocean. 

Mer resented these  _ feelings _ . They always came around whenever she experienced an overwhelming amount of social stimuli. Her old therapist’s words, not hers. But really, if she was honest, it wasn’t so much drowning as it was treading water. 

She’d always thought once she graduated with her MD, navigating her life would become easier. Yet everywhere she turned recently, she was surrounded by one frustration after another.

Izzie and George were always in her space. Bickering, being friendly and helpful, wanting her to share her problems, or going through her mother’s things for God’s sake. If that wasn’t enough, George had become annoyingly adamant that ‘men’ don’t buy tampons. _Seriously?_ _What does that even mean?_

‘Complete hogwash,’ as Harry would say because everything she’d learned through her association with her older brother, or how Bill and Ron were with Fleur and Hermione, proved her fellow intern was being an idiot and way too sensitive.

Of more importance, though, was the official reprimand Izzie, Cristina, and she had received a week ago from Bailey. At least it had been in private. The woman had pretty much ripped them new ones as she’d laid out in the strictest of terms that what they had collectively pulled during the John Doe case had not gone unnoticed. The Chief, Dr. Burke, Derek, and Harry were in the know and had unanimously agreed their actions would be filed in their permanent records. She’d made it painfully clear if they continued on their present course, they would be in genuine danger of being kicked out of the residency program, and possibly losing the chance to take their Board exams.

Cristina and Izzie, for their parts, had received a full tongue lashing, which pretty much amounted to both having a disastrous level of tunnel vision and apparent disregard for their authority figures. Bailey had also pointed out their lack of any thoughts towards the bigger picture, the patient’s or their family’s wishes, or their quality of life afterward. She’d referenced Cristina’s often tactless and callous behavior, as well as Izzie’s inappropriate and intrusive attachment to her patient. 

Mer was sad to say while she’d been embarrassed for her fellow female interns having such harsh criticism hurled at them, she’d silently agreed with their resident’s assessment. 

All three of them had been placed on month-long probation, where Izzie would be shadowing Bailey to learn by example and writing an in-depth report on her thoughts about each patient for the first two weeks. In contrast, Cristina had been assigned a peer counselor to help her assess her thought process for each case she worked on for the same period. 

Mer did not envy them and felt a relieved sense of guilty comfort that she wasn’t facing such harsh consequences. It had been enough for her to have to write a full report on all her actions and why she’d allowed them to happen, why they were considered wrong, and how she would proceed differently. Regardless, her heightened level of anxiety this past week had left her beyond tired, and she wasn’t sure how much longer she could take it.

Alex and George, on the other hand, had been allowed to leave early, since, besides Alex’s underhanded action of stealing a surgery from his fellow interns, they hadn’t really been involved. However, Bailey had directed some strongly worded advice towards Mer, which summarized down to sticking to her instincts instead of allowing herself to be led astray by sympathy for her peers. 

Even a week into their probation, Mer still developed butterflies at the mere thought of the incident. God, how could she have been so, so stupid? She knew better, had been raised, and taught to know better at the hands of surgeons like Ellis Grey and Harrison Potter-Black. 

While everything Mer had learned from her mother was through her surgery videos and casual conversations she’d witnessed, Harry had always taken the time to be completely transparent with how practicing medicine played out in the real world. Unlike her mother, he had always made himself available whenever she’d needed tutoring or needed to bounce ideas off during her uni courses. He would spend hours telling her about the ethical judgment calls he’d had to make regarding many of his patients, and now she felt she’d let him down. 

_ God! She’d been so stupid!  _ Her hands still trembled every time she thought on how she’d taken all the basics she’d ever learned, been painstakingly mentored in by one of the biggest names in surgery, and she’d thrown it wastefully down the drain. 

At least Harry hadn’t been angry enough to leave her, as she’d feared. She’d known from the start it was irrational to fear such a thing happening. After all, Harry had always been and would continue to be loyal to those he loved. It was just an integral part of who he was. But she hadn’t been able to help her mind from conjuring up worst-case scenarios. But really, it was  _ because _ she knew she had his unconditional love that she was ashamed of having let him down. 

While they hadn’t had enough time between the two of them to fully talk about things, the quick hug and kiss to the crown of her head two days ago had gone a long way to soothe her uneasy soul. 

She smiled tiredly at the memory. It had been good to get the reassurance she was still loved. Unfortunately, love didn’t replace the sense of shame she still felt, thus her lack of sleep, and on top of that, she’d been called down to the Home by her mother’s nurse. Why couldn’t life just give her a break once in a while?

###  **Harry’s POV**

“Harry, can you please come to the Home? Mom’s having a lucid day, and her nurse asked me to come because she thinks now would be a good time to take care of having her estate and responsibilities signed over to myself. I don’t know the first thing about her finances and estates, and I really don’t have time for this right now,” Harry heard Mer explain over the phone. She sounded tired and close to tears. With all the recent upheaval in her life, he really should’ve anticipated this, but first, he needed to work out a plan for Ellis.

“Bambi, Sweetheart, I know this is hard, but as much as you might hate to hear this, she’s right,” he soothed, hoping to pull her away from the panic he could hear in her voice. “We both know your mother has been getting worse, and if she is lucid then we should take care of this quickly,” he said, and before she could refuse, he added, “don’t worry, I’ll come down and take care of most of it, but you do need to be there once it’s time to sign.”

Harry had been on his way to the hospital but now with the need to head towards Ellis’ Home he turned the wheel to take the next left.

“How do you want to do this? I mean, we have a few options. I could have the papers drawn to give you the full power of attorney and have everything transferred under your name,” he asked as his brain started to compile a list of things they would need to transfer Ellis’ assets to Mer, and the people he would need to contact. 

“That would mean I would have to take care of everything from then on?” 

Sympathy welled up inside Harry at hearing her uneasy tone, and his heart went out to the fragile girl she sounded like. He understood this would be a heavy weight for her to carry, especially during the start of her residency. After all, he had personal knowledge of what an enormous step it was, having to take on the sudden responsibility of managing such a substantial financial portfolio, especially when you were barely starting to step into the world yourself. 

He’d gone through his fair share of anxiety filled episodes when the Black and Potter estates had been turned over to him by his account manager. 

He stopped at the red light and tried to reassure Mer by telling her it wouldn’t be so bad, but knew she would appreciate him being as straight with her as possible. She was a lot like him when it came to information and would rather have people be truthful with her than hide things away for the sake of not hurting her. He remembered all too well growing up with too many adults thinking they knew better, misleading him with half-truths and misinformation, which was why he whole-heartedly understood Mer’s feelings on such matters. 

He hadn’t spent too much time with her before he’d realized her need to have a bit of control or say in her own life, so he’d made her a promise to never lie or sugar coat things for her, even if hearing the truth might hurt her feelings. 

He hadn’t done so when she’d almost been taken advantage of by some college boys during her freshman year in college and hadn’t taken the proper precautions at a campus party. Or when she’d asked his opinion about whether he thought she was cut out for medical school. Even when she’d almost given herself alcohol poisoning after first hearing Ellis’ diagnosis, or when she’d failed to stick to her instincts and her attendings’ directions two weeks ago. He wasn’t about to start now.

“Hmm, you would have to take charge of Ellis’ affairs and make all decisions for her, maintain any investments, and take care of upkeep for any properties under her name.” 

Listening to her contemplative silence, he could clearly imagine the panicked look she was probably supporting and thought of other alternatives. “Well the other option is that you have full control, and I retain a limited power of attorney to help you with matters, it would give you time to get used to handling her affairs until you feel ready to do it on your own, but the final call will still be yours.”

“Yeah, I think that might be better. You know I’m not good with all this, and it would take me forever to work things out.”

He continued to make his way closer to the Home, while he spoke to Mer on speakerphone. “Look, I’m almost there. Do you want to keep Ellis’ original lawyer or bring in Harvey to handle the legal stuff, and I can always have Bartok handle her estate for you?”

“Harvey sounds good. He already handles your personal and business matters, so it might be easier,” she responded, sounding a little less overwhelmed.

“Alright, let me call Donna, and see how fast he can get here. We only have a window of a few hours, and if he can’t make it, we’ll have to go with her old lawyer for now.”

“Sounds good, I’ll see you soon, and thanks, Harry.”

“Always.” 

Hanging up, he dialed Donna’s cell, and a teasing smirk lit his face at the thought of one of his favorite redheads.  _ I seem to have a lot of those _ , he realized, thinking of all the Weasleys in his life. “Good afternoon, Luv,” he smiled. 

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t my favorite Brit,” his lawyer’s assistant of seven years and girlfriend for the past two, greeted in a playfully husky voice. “How have you been, and when are you planning to come visit us in New York?”

“Well, your favorite Brit is just dandy, thank you, and no plan as of yet to head to your side of the country, I’m afraid. Still too caught up in settling here,” he replied with a touch of disappointment.

“Hmm, so, did you miss me?” He could clearly imagine the impish curl of her lips as she asked. “What am I saying,” she corrected imperiously without giving him a chance to get a word in. “I’m Donna, of course, you missed me. Which begs the question, why has it been so long since you’ve visited?”

“Is that ever in question? Don’t worry, we’ll have to get together soon to remedy that,” he replied as he thought about how long it’s been since he last hooked up with Harvey and Donna, and felt a delicious tingle travel down his spine at  _ that _ memory. 

Clearing his head, he turned to the original reason for his call. 

“Donna, I need to speak to Harvey. Something’s come up with Ellis Grey, and I need to get things transferred under Meredith’s name.”

“Well, aren’t you lucky then?” He could hear her whispering something to someone. “Harvey is meeting with a client at a vineyard in Portland and should be finishing soon. How soon do you need him there?” She asked, her tone taking on a business-esque quality.

“The sooner, the better. I’m sure you know how Alzheimer’s can be. She’s lucid now, but there is no guarantee for how long it will last. Are you with him?” He asked since he assumed it was Harvey she’d whispered to.

“Ooh, you caught me. We decided to tack on a little vacation at the end of this trip. I’m sure the anticipation of being in my wondrous presence is killing you.” 

“You’ve been holding out on me, Donna,” he said in mock anger, “but nonetheless, I hope to see you both soon.”

“All right, I’ll get back to you soon, just make sure everyone else that might be needed is there. Oh, and have her lawyer forward her estate paperwork to me, I’ll take care of the rest. Ciao, McYummy (Goodbye, McYummy).”

With a quick, “Au revoir, Espiègle (Goodbye, Minx),” he ended the call.  _ What the actual hell? That woman has ears everywhere. _

Completely baffled at that woman’s resourcefulness, he pulled into a parking space and got out to make the necessary arrangements with Ellis’ nurse.

Harry considered his younger sister as he drove away from the Home. He’d received a text from Harvey, informing him he’d be here in four to five hours, so for now, Harry had offered Mer a ride to the hospital. Quite frankly, she looked bone-weary, making him regret not doing more for her after the events, which led to her probation. 

Reaching across the console to take her hand, he gave it a squeeze.

“What’s weighing your heart down, Bambi?” 

She stayed silent, and he started to think he wouldn’t be getting anything out of her right now, but then she spoke quietly. “It’s nothing and everything. Just a lot of things. I’m sorry I let you down.”

She’d probably needed to get that off her chest for a while now. It had always surprised Harry that for such an insular person, she’d never been very good at keeping things inside. He hid a minuscule smile that her quirk had always made it easy to get her to open up. 

“You didn’t let me down.” Seeing her incredulity, he replied, “I was more worried you let yourself down. I know you know better than anyone, everything you have gone through to get here. I know, you’re also aware of just how good your instincts are when it comes to medicine. So I have to admit, I was astonished you would allow someone, without much of a logical argument, to get you to override what you knew was the right thing to do.”

She chewed on her lip in thought, before admitting, “I knew I’d messed up right after it happened. I just, how do you say no to a friend?” she asked, almost pleadingly.

Harry wondered if she realized that she had just referred to Izzie as a friend. “Mer, I know you have limited experience with friends and family, but you still have experience with us, with Teddy, Andy, Fleur, and Hermione. Not to mention the rest of the horde.” 

Seeing a sliver of a smile at his moniker for their family and friends, he continued. “So, taking our relationship into account, has anything wrong ever happened because I refused to go along with something you wanted, or when you’ve refused to do something with me, because, and I quote, ‘it’s so stupid, it’s dumb’?”

That got her to let out a grin. “No,” she said, sounding hopeful. “I know you’re right. We’ve survived through a lot of bickering, disagreements, and the countless fights we’ve had since we met.”

“And we’re still here,” he finished her thought with another squeeze to her hand, only to get one right back, “but I know there’s something else,” he said, trying to get her to open up just a little more.

“Uh, just the same old. I visited mom when Liz, her scrub nurse, was at the hospital, and you know what, mom actually remembered her, talked about her, laughed about her, but she still couldn’t remember who I was.” Her woeful explanation chipped away at his heart, causing him to clasp her hand more firmly in silent support. 

“I’m sorry, Bambi. I know none of this is fair, and I can’t imagine what exactly you must be going through. Would you like me to take over visiting her for a while? You could use a break.”

“I don’t, but maybe just now and then, if you wouldn’t mind,” she said expectantly after the initial hesitation.

“Sure. You know it’s no problem.” Then deciding to change the subject, he asked, “So, I hate to ask, but how’s work?”

She let out a whining moan, which made the wizard chuckle and asks, “That bad, huh?”

“Well, no, it hasn’t been too bad, but there were this patient and his wife, you know, with the nails in his head?”

“Oh, that one I passed to Shepherd? I remember the trauma was fully focused on his central nervous system. What about it?” he asked, recalling the case.

“Well, we got the nails out, but then we found a fuzzy tumor, and taking it out would’ve made him lose his memories and take away the parts that made him,  _ him _ .” 

Harry could already see the parallels Mer’s mind would draw to her situation with Ellis, and accurately guessed, “You tried to talk the patient and the wife out of it?”

Her eyes showed her desperation when she answered, “I wanted to so badly. You know what they’d be going through. It wouldn’t be him anymore. I couldn’t, though, with already being in trouble and Bailey telling us ‘no more mess-ups.’” She said, pouting at him.

“Oh, don’t give me that look. I know you fully realize that you all needed a little harsh reality check. Better earlier than when it’s too late.” 

“I hate it when you talk logic to me,” she said, turning her head towards the passenger side window.

“Mer, like the situation with Alex in the locker room, and again with the husband and wife. You need to remain objective. Use your personal experience where appropriate, but try very hard to not bring your personal issues to work. Your patients and your profession deserve better than that. Your situation with your mom is not at all similar to your patient’s,” he pointed out. 

His comment made her turn back to him. “Of course it is,” she said, surprised he didn’t agree.

Shaking his head, he tried to explain, “Your relationship with your mom has always been fraught with tension, and you’ve never been that close to one another, so it’s understandable that you feel a little resentful of having to take care of her. Heck, I would, too, if I had to take care of Petunia or Vernon. The situation with your patient and his wife is quite different, perhaps?”

Taking a second to think about it, she said, “They’re completely in love with each other. It was really sweet, actually.”

“There you go, then, your experience doesn’t really apply now, does it?”

Thinking about it a bit more, she responded in the mature way of sticking her tongue out at him, which he grabbed between his thumb and index finger with lightning-quick reflexes, but he was sure she understood what he’d been getting at.

“Aaiee, aech ee ao,” she tried to say. Letting her tongue go, he wiped his hand on her jeans. “Eww, Harry.”

“What? It’s  _ your _ spit!” he defended.

While getting out after he parked the car, she said, “By the way, thanks for coming down hard on all the male interns who ganged up on Izzie for the lingerie ad,” then with an approving grin and a joking tone, she said, “it was the height of badassery. You make me proud to call you my brother,” she finished haughtily. 

“It’s sexual harassment, so they deserved it,” and turned to pat his Audi before leaving, “Bye ‘Nimbus.’”

“Never mind, I take back that last comment,” and with that, she vamoosed.

He followed her in amusement. At least he’d succeeded in distracting her out of her doom and gloom mood. The rest, he wasn’t too worried about. She’d always been a quick learner and had a good head on her shoulders. She wasn’t the same girl he’d met eight years ago, wasn’t as fragile, or as broken. Instead, she had become so much more durable and more confident, especially with people like Andy, Fleur, and Hermione as positive influences. 

So while she still had much to learn, he wasn’t worried. 

  
  


###  **Preston’s POV**

Preston felt a little undecided. He was about to take either a great step or make a huge mistake. He had just finished an early morning CABG surgery which had lasted four hours and was currently standing at the second-floor balcony waiting for his coffee order. He’d been thinking a lot about their first-year intern, Cristina Yang. Usually, she was logical, cold, practical, austere, and everything a budding surgeon should be, but during the Liz Fallon case, he’d seen her show open emotion for the first time. 

The stoic woman had spent an entire day trying to get in on Liz’s supposed Whipple surgery, only to become angry once she realized the scrub nurse had only been here for palliative care. When the older woman had coded, something about the way Cristina had just lost it had stuck with him, and he hadn’t been able to get that image out of his head since. He’d never encountered someone with so much surgical passion and ambition since his own time as an intern. 

Grabbing the two cups of coffee, he made his way towards the in-patient floor, where the Asian intern had been assigned this shift. He caught sight of her immediately, leaning as she was by the nurse’s station, writing in a patient’s chart. She was in light blue scrubs and her white coat, her wavy ebony hair half up in a clip. The image she painted made him swallow to wet his suddenly dry throat. 

Slowly sauntering forward, he casually avoided colliding into Dr. Stevens as she came out of a patient’s room, and discreetly placed one of the cups by Cristina’s right hand on his way to stand by her left side. She stopped writing and slowly glanced at the cup before turning mechanically to give him a measuring look. 

Preston continued to look at the wall in front of him, trying to keep it natural, took a sip of his coffee, burning his tongue in the process, and turned to face her. Feeling a little awkward at her silent stare, he looked between her cup and face a few times, wracking his brain for something, anything to break the silence. Finally, he settled on giving her a friendly smile before clarifying with an accompanying shrug, “Just coffee.”

After considering it in her course manner, she uttered a terse, “Good.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” she answered, and with a lack of anything else to say, he walked away with a stiff nod, but stopped around the hallway wall, hidden from her view.

He came back out and grinned, feeling a giddy sense of satisfaction when he saw her take the cup and sip from it and watched her walk away, but almost lost his grip on his hot coffee when his eyes locked on Harrison relaxing against the wall Cristina had just passed, supporting a sly grin.

_ Fuck _ . Looking away robotically, Preston started to walk away from the younger surgeon’s sight but bowed his head when he felt the Brit wrap an arm over his shoulders, and allowed him to maneuver him into an empty on-call room.

“Harrison,” Preston sighed at the inevitable, taking a seat on one of the beds, while the other man parked his frame against the wall.

“So,” he drawled, “you’ve got the hots for our spitfire intern?”

“Oh God,” Preston moaned, “can you please not make it sound like some teenage crush?” Before the other man could respond, he tried to make his case. “I know what you’re probably thinking. This is a bad idea, she’s an intern, and I’m her boss, and God, this is so wrong, but I can’t stop thinking about her. Trust me, I’ve tried.”

“What? Did I say anything?” The grinning man asked innocently.

“So, you’re saying you don’t care?” The older surgeon scoffingly asked.

The green-eyed man moved over to take a seat by him and clasped his hands together, elbows resting on his knees. “Look, Preston, as your friend…” 

“Friend?” Preston asked him in bewilderment.  _ We’re friends? _

“Hush, don’t look a gift horse in the mouth,” the Englishman waved off and turned to look at him before continuing. “As a friend, I’m happy for you. Plus, I’m sure I can say nothing you haven’t already thought of a thousand times yourself.” His friend said, surprising the older man with his laissez-faire outlook.

**“** You must really feel a pull towards her if you’re willing to place both your careers in danger.”

Preston was surprised at how calmly his ‘friend’ was taking this when most would’ve already started to talk him out of it. 

“You don’t... disapprove?” he asked Harrison, surprised at seeking his approval. He didn’t know why it mattered, maybe it provided him with a sense of relief to find some support for his decision, but at the moment, it seemed important.

“Hmm, not really. You’re a grown-ass man and know exactly what you’re getting into. A piece of advice if you want it?” 

He nodded at Harrison’s genial question.

“Cristina has a thirst for success, is insanely ambitious, and your student, hence under your authority. Others might take it the wrong way. Stay professional, make sure you request various interns on a rotation, so no one feels cause for suspicion. Do  _ not _ let her sweet talk you into anything.”

The last comment made him narrow his eyes at the Brit, only to receive a skeptical brow as if he was asking Preston,  _ ‘What, you don’t think so?’ _ , and Preston found himself reluctantly voicing, “Yeah, she might.”

“All I’m saying is, be prepared for every eventuality. If your relationship ever comes to light, it will look just as badly upon her, and all her hard work will be placed in question, and you know how the rumor mill can be around here.”

The darker-toned male sighed and leaned back on his elbows. “I know, really wish it was easier.” Then thinking about the man’s last comment, Preston directed one of his own sly grins towards the younger surgeon and teased, “Yeah, the rumor mill, dangerous thing that, McYummy.” 

This earned him an abrupt, “Oh, for ‘Merlin’s bloody bits’!” 

The weird cuss made Preston choke on his sip of coffee before he sat back up to clear his windpipe, and turned a befuddled stare on his new friend. 

“Yeah, ignoring that, and do both of yourselves a favor,” Harrison said, leaving his eccentric swear unaddressed. “The minute you realize your ‘teenager fling,’” he wiggled his fingers to emphasize the words, “is becoming a regular thing, just be open about it with the Chief and Bailey.”

“And if it backfires?” Preston countered, thinking of all the ways, doing so could turn wrong. 

“I don’t think it will, mate. Let them know it’s there, give them proof that it hasn’t changed anything since it first started, promise to continue to remain professional, remove yourself from the chain of command when it comes to any disciplinary action towards her, yada, yada, yada,” the Trauma surgeon ended with a lazy twirl of his wrist. 

“So others can’t say that I coerced her. Yeah, I know,” he nodded, understanding what the Brit was trying to say.

“Well, if that’s all for our Dr. Phil session.” The younger surgeon trailed off, standing up from the bed.

Preston followed his action and offered his hand in gratitude. “Thank you Harrison, for ah...” he trailed off, not knowing what else to say.

“Call me Harry, Pres. I think we’ve at least gotten that far,” he declared with a friendly smile, and Preston stood there silently mouthing ‘Pres’ and allowing the word to figuratively role on his tongue.

“I don’t think anyone has ever called me that,” he thought out loud.

“Really?” ‘Harry’ asked, surprised. “How fantastically unlazy of everyone,” he declared in the epitome of an upper-crust English accent. 

“Well, I have to dash, but I’ll be seeing you around.” With a smile at Preston’s last ‘thanks,’ he walked out the door, leaving the heart surgeon to just stand there thinking,  _ I haven’t really had a friend here before. Feels... nice, I think. _

  
  


###  **Meredith’s POV**

Mer sat in a chair, her right foot bouncing at the toes in a clear sign of her nervousness. Not five minutes ago, she had pulled Bailey aside to tell the Resident she needed to speak to her and Burke as soon as possible. The woman had peered at her in silence and then nodded, telling her to wait in this room.

Her mind kept toggling back and forth between following Harry’s advice, or backing out before it was too late.

She’d felt distressed and conflicted about her mistake since she’d scrubbed out from assisting in Ms. Patterson’s CABG surgery this morning, and it had been slowly eating away at her.

She focused on the present, and stood up as the door opened and in walked Bailey and Burke.

“What is this about Grey, and try to be quick, I still have rounds to finish,” the cardiothoracic attending pronounced, getting straight to the point.

Bailey took a seat, but Burke remained standing, and Mer didn’t think she could do this if he continued to hover over them. For the hundredth time, the intern wished Harry had accompanied her, but he’d thought she needed to do this on her own. She was sure she might, possibly, see sense in his decision later, but for now she just hated him, just a little bit.

“Dr. Grey, we don’t have all day.” Dr. Burke said strictly. 

Encouraging him to take a seat as this might take a while, she started to explain. “I think I made a mistake during Ms. Patterson’s surgery.” 

Both of her superiors became more attentive at her confession.

“Mistake?” the attending asked. His voice was level, and he hadn’t started yelling. So far, so good.

“My hand had been getting tired and if you recall, the heart slipped a little in my hands.” She saw Burke nodding at remembering the incident. 

“Well, when I went to remove my gloves, I noticed my nail had popped through and…” Mer paused.

This was it. If she said another word, there would be no turning back, but when Mer had chased after Harry when she’d caught sight of him coming out of the on-call room, to seek his advice, he’d said the best thing she could do was be honest as soon as possible.

“But, what if I get in trouble?” she’d asked in fear.

“Do you care more about your patient, or about your position?” Harry had asked as if they were discussing something inane. 

At her silent indecision, he’d asked a different question. “Why did you become a doctor?”

She hadn’t even had to think, her reply had been instinctive. “To help people as much as I can, in any way that I can, for as long as possible.” They’d both smiled at her words, since they were the same ones Harry had told her when she had asked him the same question years ago.

“Then, I think you already have your answer, Bambi.”

Yes, she did. 

Strengthening her resolve, she looked at her teachers and said in as steady a voice as she could manage, “I’m not one hundred percent positive, but what if the reason her heart isn’t responding as well as it should is because my nail nicked it.”

Burke went into deep thought, while Bailey’s face became extremely troubled and she looked discreetly at the attending out of the corner of her eyes.

_ Am I missing something? _ Mer thought.

“Okay, it’s not as bad as it could be, but why didn’t you come to us as soon as you suspected?” Burke questioned.

Sighing in relief at the nonaggressive question, she explained, “I didn’t want to get kicked out of the program, especially if my suspicion turned out to be untrue.”

“Not that I’m not happy you did, but why come forward now?” asked Bailey.

Mer took a stuttering breath, still feeling the beats from the flow of her blood in her ears. “I, uh, I had been thinking about it all day, I was scared and didn’t know what I should do, so I asked Hay… um, Dr. Potter-Black, and he advised that the best thing to do would be to be open with you as soon as possible, so we can help the patient without it blowing unnecessarily out of proportions.”

“Did he now? He seems to be just full of wisdom today,” Burke commented more lightheartedly than Mer expected, considering the current situation.

“He is right though. Now that we know about this, we can keep a closer eye on Ms. Patterson, and put a game plan together on how to approach her husband about any complications. Still, for now nothing changes, continue to monitor her Grey, and I’ll go warn the Chief,” the man said before getting up.

“Wait, I’m still on her case?” Mer asked in surprise, not being able to believe what she was hearing. She’d been certain this would lead to another strike in her record, and so soon after the first one too. Just the thought of confessing had her at the edge of tears since the surgery.

“You showed strength in choosing to follow all the right protocols, didn’t hide any facts, and it’s not too late for intervention if needed, so yes, you’re still on her case.” 

He turned to leave before turning back to her. “Why go to Dr. Potter-Black with this?”

Damn, she’d been hoping they didn’t notice her slip of the tongue. “Well, it’s not really a secret, but we don’t really go out of our ways to announce it either, I mean, the Chief already knows, and so does Cristina…”

“Meredith,” Bailey interrupted, looking amused at her rambling.

“Right, uh, do you want the long story or the short story,” she asked, trying to lighten the impact but curious about their answer as well.

“Grey, not all day,” Burke huffed, crossing his arms.

“My mother didn’t always have time to be a mom and we didn’t get along most of the time. I met Harry when he started the first year of his residency with my mother and well, he kind of took me under his wing,” she narrated with a casual shrug of her shoulders.

Thinking about the saying, ‘in for a penny, in for a pound,’ she decided to just let them know the full truth. “After a few years, he practically became my unofficial guardian, and since I don’t really have any family besides my mother, he took on the role of an older brother and sometimes father.

“But this won’t affect us working together. Harry doesn’t believe in giving special treatment, he’s always made me earn everything,” she finished with an expectant look, hoping this wouldn’t cause problems.

“Well, that’s good to know, reassuring that he’s ethical about it, and since the Chief knows, it should be fine,” Bailey said, bringing Mer’s anxiety level down.

The Resident then looked towards the attending and asked, “If we’ve all done here, can I send my intern back on the floor?”

“Yeah, we’re good,” Burke dismissed before heading out the door.

Bailey then turned to her, with a considerate look. “Well, this explains a whole lot about why Dr. Potter-Black informed me you might need to leave early to take care of some  _ family _ business. That has seriously been bugging the crap out of me all morning.”

Mer chuckled at her older brother’s shenanigans, as he’d probably done it for that exact reason. “He’s a prankster, so he tends to pull stuff like that,” she whispered as if letting Bailey in on a secret.

“Huh, he seems so mature.”

“Mm-hmm, he’s really good at it too, but you should be safe as long as you don’t do anything to get on his bad side.”

Mer’s comment made Bailey narrow her eyes in calculation, before she told Mer, “We’ll see about that, now get back to your station.”


End file.
